Memories Like Water
by Sakura123
Summary: PRS Era. In the simplest of terms, 100 drabbles centered on the lives of Dayu and Deker before and during the events of the series. A fanfic 100 livejournal challenge, presently at forty percent completion.
1. Bunraku Dance

**Title: Memories like Water**

**Genre: Romance**

**Summary:** [PRS] - In the simplest of terms, the lives of Dalia and Deker before and during the events of the series.

**Author:** Sakura123 (weber_dubois22)

**Rating: T**

**Relationship:** Deker/Dalia (Dayu)

**Characters:** Deker, Dalia, Xandred, Octoroo, Serrator

**Chapters: 100**

**Written:** 10/30/2011

**Disclaimer (circa 2011):** Samurai Sentai Shinkenger/Power Rangers Samurai is property of Toei LTD and Saban Brands. I own nothing except the story that you see before you. Honestly, if I owned "Power Rangers", Samurai wouldn't be a soulless translation of a fantastic Sentai season. That and there would be DVD sets galore.

**Author's Note:** The Dayu (Dalia)/Deker storyline is silver lining in the void that is _Samurai_, so much so that I'm watching just to see how it turns out because it's the only spark of originality in the season as a result of cultural differences on what is allowed in children's television. The problem? The characters are implied to be "centuries" old, immortalized by their Nighlok curses. _Samurai_ disregards the periodical timeline set in _Shinkenger_ (both Dayuu and Juzo, Deker and Dalia's counterparts, are from the Edo Period of Japan, maybe the Edo/Tokugawa era) by having the two appear in Dayu's dream world in 20th century clothing living in a house that looks equally as modern. This contradicts how their depicted (Japanese) in the painting via "Tengen Gate" (which apparently is in walking distance and in New Zealand now). The ethnicity problem (a White Samurai and his wife born and raised in ancient Japan, really?) makes me think _Samurai_'s timeline needs to be set during the late Edo Period, circa 1700s, bordering on the Meijii Restoration and the Empire of Japan during the 1800s. At least then there'd be an excuse for European presence, just not the Samurai part. In most cases, it's something I could brush off, but for a season that is completely dependent on the storyline from _Shinkenger_ (which is predominantly rooted in Japanese culture) it's a glaring problem I find myself unable to work around because it literally incites questions and requires that I make something up.

Trying to find a decent Deker or Dayu fic in which their names spelled correctly and doesn't read like it's been written by a fourteen year old who rushes through everything without consideration of their personalities/character (what little that is provided to them), is neigh impossible. I found at least ONE and suffered through the rest of the terribleness, often saddled bad ideas and worse writing. So I wrote a bunch of drabbles to satisfy the backstory nut in me and put something out there that was above mediocre/average. Most of this is comprised of my headcanon as I couldn't stand the historical inaccuracies in Samurai surrounding the two. Did some research on feudal Japan and America during the 1600s-1800s (if one is going off the assumption that _Shinkenger_'s events start canonically in 2009, then Doukoku would've been banished about 1809 or not), but knowing my luck there are probably inaccuracies regardless.

The primary intention of this fanfiction is for the "fanfic100" challenge at livejournal probably one of the most well-known fanfiction livejournal for its proposition alone. The objective is to use the four seasons (winter, spring, summer and fall) and separate the 100 prompts into 30/20 among them to create a series of stories of any length across 100 chapters. A prompt will be afforded to both Dalia/Dayu and Deker for a change up in different perspectives on certain events within this season. That aside, enjoy the story. Let me know what you think of it through constructive criticisms, it would be much appreciated.

* * *

**Title:** Bunraku Dance

**Prompt:** "Beginnings"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

In the isolation of wandering ship she would sit in the corner, one hand tracing the ribcage of the misshapen acoustic guitar turned shamisen, the other stroking the strings with the Bachi. Xandred was still sleeping, oblivious to the stirring of the Sanzu for the time being. There'd been a recent surge of energy building within the confines of Xandred's holding, the kind that she remembered feeling just before he began to lay waste to the human world.

What a feeling that had been, how her skin had tingled when his rage was let loose upon the unsuspecting humans.

She left the ship the night of his siege on the Shiba House, but she did not partake in the slaughter. Instead she wandered the cold wastelands of Japan, searching for him, he who would walk the earth for eternity. How long it took was irrelevant; it could've been hours, days or weeks, so long as she found him.

And find him she did, but he did not see her.

Naught but a silhouette, surrounded by the forest, he stumbled aimlessly in the dark like a drunk, sword dragging through the dirt. Even from a distance she could feel his turmoil and confusion, the blank slate that was his mind carried nothing but the fire from that night, the beginnings of a waking nightmare.

The life given in exchange did not equal the life she risked so heedlessly.

The Bachi dragged slowly until it left the last string, the music ceased and the energy followed with it.

The ship lurched violently in succession of the roar of rage that followed.

The imperfect seal was broken.


	2. Rolling in the Deep

**Title:** Rolling in the Deep

**Prompt:** "Middles"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-series

* * *

Sleep was an elusive dream, one he had no memory of experiencing. His feet pounded against the ever changing surface of the ground; hard, soft, lofty, there wasn't a time he didn't remember walking, searching. He passed through the generations of crowds, a stranger to them all, a shadow cast over their own.

He should be tired, but he wasn't, he never tired.

Uramasa stabbed and twisted in the wound of his desire, vibrating underneath the cover of the sheathe whenever he got close to a soul worthy of its serrated edges. How they wished to fight, but no one seemed worthy. Opponents that faced him wet his appetite, but it never satisfied what they were looking for; no matter how many fell at his feet, no one satisfied.

Rolling his tongue across his teeth, he studied the sword in the full light of the sun. The blade shuddered as the sun settled in its middle, almost as it wished to shrink away from the intensity of the natural light, but he kept his grip firm.

Atop the hill, the field of green grass stretched out before him, distancing him from the mundane everyday of life in the here and now. Watching the children roll about in the grass, oblivious to the nature of world around them, stirred some unfamiliar feeling within him.

One Uramasa smothered.

_Nothing matters but us,_ it would whisper to him, and as the currents began to sour, Deker realized as much was true. Nothing mattered but the battle. Standing, he sheathed the katana and proceeded toward exit of the park.

The master was awake and he was not happy.


	3. The Stray

**Title:** The Stray

**Prompt:** "Ends"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-series

* * *

Cats liked Deker. It was a strange sight to behold, watching him lounging underneath the shade of a tree while a tabby cat roamed across his lap, head bobbing up and down in curiosity as it searched for even ground.

Dalia mused over the lazy affection he offered the creature, fingers caressing the top of its head, the cat leaned into his affection, eyes squinted and the ends of its whiskers perked with delight. He struck her a dog person, but there was no denying his affinity for the feline persuasion. This particular stray had been visiting the Minka in consistent frequency, yellow eyes spying around the corners of the doors, searching for fish to steal. Dalia was more inclined to shoo the creature away, she considered cats bad luck.

Deker, however, humored the feline, teasing it with chunks of fried fish whenever it slinked its way into their home. "It's not hurting anyone, it's just hungry," He told her. Dalia didn't disagree, but she didn't have to like the feline, plight or no. Closing the distance between them, Dalia watched as the tabby climbed atop his shoulder and proceeded to claw its way up the tree.

Deker cast a mildly interested glance in the panicked tabby's direction as flakes of bark landed across his shoulders, his eyes then shifted over to Dalia, eyes smiling. "It had somewhere else to be, apparently," He said as she sat down next to him. Dalia rested her head upon his shoulder with a sigh. "It'll be back, it always comes back," She replied quietly.


	4. Acquaintances

**Title:** Acquaintances

**Prompt:** "Insides"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"How is your friend?" She asked in flawless Japanese. His rudimentary understanding of the language picked up on "friend", but it wasn't what got his attention. The sound of her voice, not the words, startled him out of the silent stupor; his hand made a reach for the pistol lying idol next to the mat he sat on.

He watched her shrink back slightly, brow furrowing slightly at the move of aggression on his part. "Now, I said there was no for that behavior. No one will find you here, you have my word," The woman said, this time in English. Deker blinked wearily in disbelief; wherever he and Diend fled they were found sometime later by Moogers, why would this time be any different?

Deker fully accepted part of their constant discovery by the enemy was because of him. The mass retreat against Xandred's army might've covered their initial escape from the battlefield, but they'd been running almost nonstop through the countryside because of the relentless pursuit of the demon army. He'd been too tired to even drag Diend into the seclusion of a nearby barn, his muscles burned from exertion, ready to give out.

Then the door to her Minka opened. Half conscious, he'd taken the light pouring through the doorway as a sign of death that he was on the brink of joining the afterlife. Had it not been for her, Deker was sure they would've been dead. "He's resting… I think," He added the last part in a moment of hesitation. It was true enough, Diend looked as if he were resting, but the memory of his being cut down by one of the Nighlok reminded him Diend wasn't so much as "resting" was he was oblivious to his own state of being.

"I'm sure he'll recover, he simply needs rest," The woman said, "as do you."

"No. I can't rest. I have to-"

Dalia placed a hand on his shoulder causing him to flinch once again, but she did not shrink away this time. "Please," She watched him lift his head and his eyes shift over to her behind the curtain of his eyelashes. "No harm will come to you and your friend if you choose to rest."

"You can't guarantee that," He said.

"No, maybe not," She answered. "But God can."

He scoffed. "God cares nothing for humans. You faith is misplaced."

In spite of his words, she smiled, her belief unshaken. "I care and if I care, so shall God." At his look, she said, "Get some rest, stranger, I'll watch over you."


	5. Winners

**Title:** Winners

**Prompt:** "Outsides"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** "Origins"

* * *

It was altogether amusing and unsettling how enraged Xandred could become whenever he lost; this failure in particular, fell on the side of amusing. Did he really expect the first monster sent to earth, the first in 200 years, to succeed against the Samurai Rangers? Honestly, it's common knowledge among Nighloks everywhere that no one that ever attempted to conquer the realm of the living, succeeded in the first try, not since the very first demon went against the Goddess Amaterasu.

The ship rocked back and forth in the chaos of the Sanzu, Octoroo slid across the splintered wood in aghast, Xandred stomped and cursed at the world around him as he "lamented" his defeat like the regal general he'd always was.

Dayu acknowledged the turmoil going on outside of her, but was content to ignore it, her fingers moving through the usual motions of caressing the warped instrument that once encompassed her happiness.

Short lived as it was.


	6. World of Desires

**Title: **World of Desires

**Prompt:** "Hours"

**Season:** Winter

* * *

It's true enough; he doesn't remember anything of his life.

_"Wake up."_

There was a fire, there was a body. There was the gnawing pain that seemed eternal until he found himself drowning in an ocean of red. After years upon years of wandering in between the human and the netherworld, he crawled his way out the cackling world of red and misery, severing ties with its residences. They loathed him, they loathed his humanity however little there was of it. If there had been anything salvageable beyond the chaos of emotions (or lack thereof) that propelled him forward from that day 200 years ago, he might have been able to sympathize with their hatred. As it stood, vague feelings or images didn't count much for a "memory".

_"Wake up."_

Every so often, however, there was a voice. Man or woman, he couldn't discern it. It was at its most persistent on earth, almost so that he willingly allowed Uramasa to cloud his thoughts.

"_Wake up."_

When that happened, the line between Uramasa and his own mind became indistinguishable from each other. His desires were Uramasa's; every waking hour of his "life" was dedicated to achieving that desire. Yet, there was no denying the ache in his body was the kind you got rid of with a long rest and sleep eluded him.

"_Wake up."_

How he wanted to sleep.


	7. Company of Dees

**Title:** Company of Dees

**Prompt:** "Days"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

The stranger slept through the first two days after their arrival to the farm; He'd been altogether stubborn (read: afraid) about trusting her belief in the Gods protecting them from the Moogers. He went as far pressing himself into the corner of the bedroom, arms and legs crossed with the pistol resting to the right of him as a means of defiance.

Dalia left him to his devices, requesting that he keep the weapon out of his hands unless he truly sensed danger. She returned an hour later to find him slumped and leaning to the side, oblivious to the world around him.

Repositioning him wasn't hard, laying him on his side was tricky, however. His weight was completely free of his control, resulting in a near miss with his head and the hardwood floor. Still, he barely responded to her touch, not even when laid the blanket over him.

The expectation that either he or his friend would wake was hard to resist, though she fell back into the routine of looking after the farm, she would always peek into the room to see if there was any change. Tending to the injured party was easy enough, but his pallor complexion and lack of motion beyond breathing stirred a fear in her.

If he died, then the stranger have reason to believe she (or God, really) failed to keep her word and the question of her own likelihood would come into question. Dalia prayed for the wellbeing of both strangers when the fear was at its worst and on the third day she was rewarded with a surprise.

"Why did you let me sleep? We could've been attacked." It amazed her that anyone could wake in such a foul mood, let alone articulate sentences so well through what was apparent sleep. The stranger sat up, supported by his elbows, red eyes watching her every move. Was he aware of how much time had passed? She wondered.

"You needed it and we weren't," She answered simply. "Did you sleep well, stranger?" The question, simple enough, was one she expected to meet resistance again. The stranger watched her collect the old bandages from off the floor and place them into the empty basin, even when she stared straight ahead it was hard to ignore the unsettling intensity of his gaze. When she turned to face him, his eyebrows raised slightly in question. "I did… thank you."

The reluctant answer brought a small smile to her face. "I'm glad for it."

"What of my friend? Is he alright?"

"There's very little change, but his injuries are being treated, you have my word," She explained briefly as she began to exit the room. "Are you hungry?"

"Thirsty," Came his reply. Dalia took a moment to stop and nod by way of letting him known he'd been heard. "If you can get up, please follow me." There was no immediate response, verbal or physical, from the stranger. She didn't wait for one. Traveling down the short hallway, she passed through the living room into the kitchen where she placed the basin on the floor in the corner. "Your home is smaller than I thought," He rasped.

"Things are different here than they are in the colonies, a better different n my opinion," Dalia replied, turning to face him. The stranger stood awkwardly in the doorway, favoring his right side over balance as though he were hurt. He seemed entirely hesitant to pass over the threshold into the kitchen. "From where do you hail, stranger?" She asked, hoping to further the conversation. He drew his gaze away from the walls over to where she stood next to the stove, acknowledging her completely since leaving the room. "Stone Canyon," He replied. "And yourself?"

"The neighboring state, Angel Grove, strange enough," Dalia replied. "Please, stranger, make yourself comfortable." She gestured to the table in the center of the living room, just outside the kitchen. The man cast a glance over at the table he passed with mild disinterest, implying that he was perfectly comfortable standing in the middle of the floor. "My name is Deker," He said.

"Deker," She tried the name out; it was rough, it rolled across her tongue with no real grace and yet it fit the suspicious expression he sported. "My name is Dalia."

To his credit, Deker chose not say anything. Instead an almost contemplative expression befell him as he turned to sit at the table.

Not sure what to make of it, Dalia busied herself with preparing the water.


	8. Differences

**Title:** Differences

**Prompt:** "Months"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Japan was far more different than the colonies than he truly expected. The seemingly endless days and months spent held up in a ship was enough to drive a man crazy were it not for the excited chatter of the men and women.

Strolling across the starboard side of the deck, he took a moment to look out upon the water one last time before finally facing the bustling pier across from him; the crew, aided by the dockworkers, was hard at work unloading the ship of its cargo. The women were quick it get out of their way as they hurried down the plank down onto the dock with what belongings they could carry. Deker looked out upon the greater part of the harbor and wondered at strange similarities to the environment.

To be sure the language was different, the clothing and preparation for seafaring was different, but the overall environment of the harbor maintained the dull grays, browns and beige whites and still smelled of fish and an assortment of wet things, particularly wood.

"Deke, get your head out of the clouds for moment and help us, eh?" Captain Beasley's voice rang up from off of the docks, Deker wandered over to the edge of the ship and shot off a quick "yes, sir!" before heading for the ramp.


	9. Hatred

**Title:** Hatred

**Prompt:** "Years"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** "The Team Unites"

* * *

Dayu wasn't one for pleasantries when it came to the Nighlok that offered their services to Xandred to destroy the Power Rangers. She loathed Nighlok on principle alone for what they'd done to her.

Such a hatred stripped of her humanity save for the parts that matter, that same hatred trapped her in a eternity of "undead" suffering that kept her from the peace promised at the end of old age, family and love. That same hatred stripped her of years of a love that she worked too hard and long to achieve and truly hardened the hearts of both parties involved in a deal she should've never made.

The elongated freak of nature promised to do the Rangers in, but she suspected his luck would be no better than the last monster they obliterated. It would be imprudent, unwise even, to laugh at Xandred's defeat. So she wouldn't do it.

Aloud.


	10. Stranded

**Title:** Stranded

**Prompt:** "Red"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

The world was an empty place without violence. Entrenched in the bloody battle of a war that was not his own, Deker had become to accustomed to the sound of gunfire, gunpowder, flashing lights and swords swinging for his neck. So accustomed that it was almost too alien not to hear the sounds in a combined medley of death.

Separated from his company, Deker had only Diend as a traveling companion to speak of. And speaking, truth be told, was difficult when the companion in question only spoke the native language and understood not a lick of English beyond his name (Deker's, that is).

Armed with a empty pistol and a dagger, Deker wondered how he would fend against the Moogers combing the forest for survivors; Diend could handle himself, he had a sword that could cut through just about anything (a katana he called it) and destroyed Moogers with a mere slash or two depending on the numbers.

Deker had been caught before, it's how he'd came to be in the company of Diend. After the company's initial retreat from an ambush, Moogers had gotten a hold of him and branded him like a cattle on his lower right side of his back. His capture wasn't for his long though; a group of Samurai had attacked the camp in the night, freeing their kinfolk and the American soldiers in the process. Deker had no idea where he was going as he ran into the night, he merely followed whomever looked human and friendly until he could no longer run. It was during that time he met Diend, one of the captured samurai separated from his company.

They'd been fortunate enough to avoid the bulk of the search parties in the forest, but the one time they'd been confronted with Moogers resulted in a lopsided battle. Diend had done most of the fighting and killing, Deker had been lucky enough to stab at least one of them and kill the next with a blind shot of his final pistol round. The rest of his time was spent ducking sharp objects with the use of trees and tripping the enemy up with backtracking if he got too far from Diend.

The surviving Moogers retreated through the red fissure in the earth, their three-dimensional bodies compressed into mere slits like paper as they were sucked back through the slit. Diend had centered himself quickly and snapped at Deker with "Baka!" before continuing down the path they'd chosen.

Baka. Now there was a word he'd been hearing a lot; if only he knew what it meant, he might have a decent comeback to hit Diend with.


	11. Flight of Fancy

**Title:** Flight of Fancy

**Prompt:** "Orange"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Dalia regarded herself in the mirror with uncertainty as she fingered the delicate fabric pressed against her chest. The dress was old, one of the few dresses that survived the trip overseas and her subsequent journey in the strange new land that she practically paid her way through. Separated from her traveling companion after an attack by Moogers and the subsequent retaliation from the Samurai, Dalia wandered the land in search for civilization.

She eventually came across an isolated farm house and an elderly woman (named Mako) who took her in, the soggy and downtrodden excuse of a woman in distress. The language of the land was hard to learn, especially through a party who had no comprehension of the English language, but Dalia struggled through it with the hopes that her hardship would be rewarded. In the end the lessons were beneficial, bad as her accent and pronunciation was, but she was mindful of her place in the hierarchy in old Mako's house until her passing.

Alone, Dalia had decided to remain on the land, reading through the texts left behind the woman. She'd been a warrior for the Emperor (a "Shinkenger"), a worshiper of the Shinto gods and goddesses of Japanese lore. The house had been blessed and branded with symbols to protect it against the evils crawling through the land. Hold up in the house, Dalia remained glued the warrior text - reading them day in and out as she reinforced the land and consecrated the warrior's grave.

Her own religion, her old life, as much as she clung to it, didn't do much in this world and caused a distress in her that chased her into a state of self isolation. As long as she was surrounded familiar things in an unfamiliar environment and unfamiliar practices, Dalia's sanity felt intact. The orange dress of lady of a modest upbringing hung up on the wall in the bedroom she slept in, a reminder of where she came from, a reminder of how she used to live.

It didn't fit her anymore.


	12. Merry Christmas, Mr Uramasa

**Title:** Merry Christmas, Mr. Uramasa

**Prompt:** "Yellow"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"_What kind of girl you like?"_

Deker was shaken from his slumber from the pulsing bass and the sultry voice that commanded the rhythm of the pulse that danced down his spine. He rolled onto his side, eyes wide open and bewildered. The room was lit by the dull yellow and red light of dusty lamps light and smaller lights fastened around the edges of the walls.

"_I know my looks can be deceiving."_

His head throbbed and his body ached with the familiar pain that told him he'd been separated from Uramasa for too long. Groaning, he tried his best to ignore the pulsing rhythm of the music that roared over his thought processes and staggered to his feet. One look at his hand revealed that human façade had been shed, replaced by the hard inner-shell of disfigured bone and hard red skin.

"_Tell me, am I your type?"_

A growl bubbled at the base of his throat as his balance began to return him. Stumbling from the confines of the tiny bedroom, Deker dragged his hand across the blade slashes that marred the cheap wallpaper. He was unaware of the destruction he marched through, far too focused on honing in on the pain that was starting to gnaw at the remainder of his patience.

"_My goal is to please you."_

Stumbling into the living room of the cramped apartment he spotted Uramasa lodged in the center of a coffee table, blood dripping from its serrated edges. Next to the coffee table was a body, far too mangled to identify it from man or woman, a grizzly fate the woman lying on her side on the couch had been spared. Wide eyed she stared across the room, her expression a picture of genuine shock, one hand on the bleeding wound where the sword had entered. Blinking owlishly, he leaned against the threshold of the living room and tried to drift back into the vague centerpiece of his bastardized body.

"…_I hope you have an appetite…"_

Slowly but surely he could feel his former body emerging from underneath the Nighlok visage, bones and flesh shifting and burning away. The muscles in his body relaxed, no longer held taut by the jagged bones of his demon form. Stumbling forward Deker ripped Uramasa from the table and ventured down the hallway ahead of him toward the exit, anxious to leave the music behind him.

"_Taste it, taste it…"_

* * *

"My Love is like…Wo" lyrics © Mya, 2003


	13. We can fight our desires

**Title:** We can fight our desires

**Prompt:** "Green"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

The green of the meadow stretched as far as the eye could see, no real indication of its limits beyond the bamboo trees that towered over the land in the distance. Dayu was compelled to follow the shrinking figure further into the grassland, but her legs ached and she hadn't been able to move since her knees gave out.

The sun had begun to set soon after she reached the meadow, but that hadn't stopped him from walking on without the slightest break in his pace. It was in a moment such as this that she wished she could scream out and call to him, plead that he stop. The paralysis that trapped her voice in her chest was like something from a nightmare; Dayu couldn't move, couldn't pick herself up from where she fell.

The more he pulled away, the more she wanted to tear at the ground.


	14. Idle Times

**Title:** Idle Times

**Prompt:** "Blue"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Diend's recovery was a slow one.

With nothing save his own his devices and Dalia's housekeeping or chores to keep him busy, Deker found it hard to keep his restlessness in check. It was no fault but his own of course, but he'd liked to blame it the weeks that felt like years (or was it vice versa?) cooped up on a ship; in the same way that there was nothing except water surrounding him, the confines of Dalia's seemingly endless property made him antsy, only in place of water there was trees and grass.

Leant up against the wall of his and Diend's bedroom, Deker observed his sloppy handwriting under the weakening light of the calendar light. He found a blue notebook in a stack of papers and took it as own, writing down whatever came to his mind. The war occupied his mind on a daily basis, he wondered if they'd won, if they lost and if anyone in his company had reached the base camp after the ambush.

Was he a deserter because he wasn't rushing to reach his comrades? Did they even care if he was dead or alive? He hoped they did, but assumed they didn't. In his observations of the calm exterior outside of the Minka it was almost impossible to believe that there was a war going on at all.

Dropping the pen in the center of the crinkly paper, Deker stretched his arms over his head. His muscles relaxed immediately, loosening and unrolling from the knots they formed for hours of inactivity. Reaching over he opened the tiny door of the lantern and let loose a quick puff of breath.

The fire was extinguished, plunging him into the dark.


	15. Hazing Ceremony

**Title:** Hazing Ceremony

**Prompt:** "Purple"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Dalia had never been so terrified in her life. Moments breath had barely passed since she uttered the damned prayer to save her beloved when her own life had been claimed by demon she'd come to know as Serrator, the self-proclaimed King of the Nighloks. Clinging to the last remnant of her humanity, she let loose a scream as the fires of the netherworld swallowed her whole and dragged her down into their personalized hell.

Red as far the eye could see, she sat on her knees still too shocked to realize what happened to her. Moogers crawled in and out of the blood red water, letting out cackles and cries that would chill the blood of even the most coldhearted of individuals. Her wedding gift was still clutched to her chest, a disfigured shamisen of her own bone and muscle. The sound of gravel being crushed beneath the feet of another alarmed her; she turned quickly and tried to scoot away.

The hulking figure of blue and purple chuckled at her futile attempt at escape, reaching down he grabbed her by the wrist and hoisted her off the ground. Dalia felt her whole body tremble from the show of strength, her feet barely touched the ground as he brought her closer. "Your suffering smells delicious," He breathed, mandibles twitching excitably. "Let me deepen it," His grip on her tightened as he lifted her higher from the ground.

Her human flesh peeled away from her wrist like paper, exposing not muscle, but something else, something alien. As expected, she screamed as he laughed.


	16. Morning Glory

**Title:** Morning Glory

**Prompt:** "Brown"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

The chill of the morning woke him from oblivion. More so than the patchiness of his throat, or the ringing in his head, the cold seemed to bother him, causing his blistering skin to prickle so that he actually sought to burrow himself deeper into the dirt before he even realized where he was.

Uncurling his body, he tried to ignore the tautness of his skin as he pulled his face from the mud. The early morning peeked through the trees isolated by the leaves; sunlight appeared sporadically around the environment of the forest like light reflected off a shattered mirror. Deker let out a low growl that sounded closer to a strangled mewl, the skin on the left side of his face was tighter than the right which felt barely registered on the scale of numb to lax. He managed to pull himself into a semi-upright position, glancing down at his arm he felt his heart skip at the sight of the burns that traveled up to his shoulder.

Laying next to him a sword, accented with red and white, the serrated blade glimmered in the sunlight. Touching his fingers to his face, the mere thought of his disfigurement made him ill. He couldn't remember how he'd been burned, where the sword came from let alone how he'd come to be where he was.

One look at his clothes, long johns and a night shirt, couldn't tell him if he was a civilian or a solider. He'd been in a fire that much was certain. His lungs burned when he breathed, the insides of his stomach gnawed at him like some savage beast desperate for food, his body was in bad shape and his head throbbed like he'd been beaten thrice times with a heavy blunt object. There wasn't a house for miles so where did the fire take place? Not here in the barren and brown environment of the forest, but elsewhere.

He just didn't have a name.


	17. Cattle

**Title:** Cattle

**Prompt:** "Black"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"Deker, are you alright?" She watched Deker open his eyes in response to her voice when it drifted from the other side of his bedroom. Emerging from underneath the covers he peered at the young woman staring at him through the crack of the sliding door with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"What?"

"Are you alright? I heard moaning," Dalia stepped into the room quietly, pulling her robe closer to her body as she traveled across the short distance toward the soldier. "I wasn't moaning, I was sleeping," Deker grouched quietly, sitting up. Dalia sat next to him on the floor and placed her lantern next to her. In the dull light of the lantern she could see the shadows underneath his eyes, a dead giveaway of the lack of sleep he'd been getting recently.

As to why she wasn't sure. The noises she'd been hearing from the men's bedroom as of late were disconcerting. Diend complained once about his noisy bedmate's moaning, requesting that she hide the alcohol from him or he was never going to get a proper night's sleep. On the night she decided to check in on him, Deker had been thrashing on the floor, twisting about as if a knife had been twisted in his side. He remembered none of it of course; he claimed Dalia must've been dreaming when she saw what she saw. He wasn't moaning or he wasn't experiencing nightmares, just a distinct type of sleep deprivation.

The most Deker had ever complained about since arriving was an infrequent lower back pain, something he attributed to sleeping on the hardwood floor and never tending to the brand on his back after his escape from the Moogers camp. And sure enough, though he continued every other night, the burn scar on his lower back was as unpleasant in appearance as it'd been when she first set eyes on it.

Across from him Diend groaned in his sleep and turned over on his side, somewhere between the line of deep sleep and awareness. His friend was recovering exceptionally well. Not two days ago Dalia had deemed him well enough to leave his room and roam the lands, but made it a point to tell him not to wander beyond the charms she placed on well on the far end of the property. "What is it that can't wait until morning?" He whispered.

"You," She replied.

He blinked slowly in disbelief. "What of me? I was resting fine until you came in."

"The noises, you were making them again."

"Oh my days, Dalia, I was not!" Deker's voice raised an octave; Dalia shushed him quickly, slapping him on the wrist. Deker drew his hand back in surprise, not expecting the strength of the slap to be so sharp. "Leave, now!"

"Let me see your back."

"Leave!"

"No, I think there might be something wrong with your scar," She placed emphasis on each word spoken through her teeth in such a way that Deker actually paused for a slither of a second before regaining his composure.

"There is nothing wrong with my scar-hey!" Deker's harsh tone faltered off into surprise when Dalia jumped him. Reaching behind her, she grabbed his nightshirt she pulled it over his head; in the light of the lantern she could see an ugly black mark on raised skin from a particularly nasty burn. Like a misshapen hand, on his lower back it almost seemed to move along his freckled skin like a spider.

Very quickly she pressed her thumb against the scar, Deker's entire back tensed as he let out an unceremonious cry of agony. He threw her off his back and turned so that he was facing her. "What did you stab with me with?!" He cried, reaching behind him to check for injures. "Nothing!" She responded, unable to keep her voice down.

His fingers pressed against the throbbing spot in his lower back, the exact same pain remerged, pressing up against his skin like a blade. His second cry of pain startled Diend into an upright position, his hunter's knife at the ready. "What has happened now?" He cried eyes focused on Deker's wreathing form.

Dalia shook her head quickly; she grabbed hold of the solder's arms and tried to steady his trembling body. "I- I'm not sure. I came into the room because he was moaning in his sleep again," She said. "When I touched his back he started screaming like this." Deker regarded Dalia with a pleading expression; he found himself unable to think straight or breathe through the pain that seemed to want to crawl free or gnaw through his skin. "Help me."

The memory of his imprisonment by the Moogers came rushing back from the recesses of his mind; the blistering heat of the branding iron against his skin as they marked him made him squirm as Dalia turned him on to lie on his stomach. "G-get it o-off!" He hissed through gritted teeth. "G-get off me."

Dalia did her best to ignore him as she motioned for Diend to come closer with the lantern. He did as he was asked, the illuminated light revealed the fingers of the tattooed hand had indeed progressed higher up his back, but it was skin in the center that pulsed as though there were a heart beating beneath it. Diend scowled at the malady on his Japanese-inept friend. "A locator spell," Said Diend harshly. "They've branded him with a locator spell."

"Speak English!" Deker blurted in agony

"You're sure?" Dalia asked.

Diend nodded. "I've this done to one of my own. The Moogers, in order to keep track of their prey, they brand them with specific symbols of the Nighlok and are able to find them again if they escape. It's how I was captured. Tenma, my companion, his brand had reacted no sooner than he touched a hand to his skin."

"Does that mean their close?" Dalia inquired.

"Almost definitely."

"But why is it reacting like this now?"

"You and he touched the brand. It's meant to react in a such a way that if there were was attempt to remove it, it would try to escape and kill it's host."

"But if he was cursed before he came to be here, then the protective charms should've kept him outside of the barrier," Dalia remarked. "Unless…"

"Your prowess with the priestess' blessings is not as great you made them out to be," Diend offered. Well, there was that, but it wasn't a possibility Dalia waned to admit or consider. "Or it cannot be detected by mere holy charms," She finished.

"If that is case, then this is something far stronger than the old woman's powers," Diend finished just as Deker bucked up from the floor and cried out. Dalia let out a tiny yelp when she saw Deker's skin split open and a centipede like creature rear its head, mandibles twitching wildly in excitement. Deker twisted underneath Dalia's hold, she kept his arms pinned at his sides and her knee on his upper back of his back. "Get it out, get it off me!" Deker Diend wasted no time in reacting to the squeaking monster's celebratory wiggling; grabbing it in the center of its body he pulled the monster free from his friend's back.

He barely avoided the stinger on it the end of its body when he tossed it to the ground, the centipede creature wriggled in surprise as it tried to right itself. Reaching for his knife he unsheathed the compact weapon and lunged forward, the blade pinned the creature down into the hardwood floor, the centipede screeched in sync with Deker.

Dalia did her best to keep him still as he started to thrash underneath her hold. Diend watched as the creature burst into momentary flames before crumbling into ashes. "Deker," Dalia turned him over so that he was lying on his left and not his right side. She could see the blood and puss oozing out from the exit wound onto the floor. The wound was too severe to be healed, he would die. "Deker?" Deker barely responded to her voice, his body jerked with convulsions, his nervous system was alight with pain. Eyes at half mass he regarded Dalia through the tears that clouded his vision. "Is it over?" His voice rose barely above a whisper.

"It's gone, its dead," Dalia nodded. "I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you."

If Deker heard her, he made no indication of it. Instead his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body went limp. Dalia felt her heart stop almost immediately after, she cupped his face in her hands, she shook him hard. "Deker? Deker! Deker, wake up!" She cried. Deker didn't respond, he remained motionless in her arms. Diend sheathed his knife and placed it next to her, hurrying over to his knapsack he rummaged through it for a moment then pulled a small rectangular shaped object from the knapsack.

"What are you doing?" Dalia watched the samurai place his hand on Deker's side and push him away from her body. Instinctively, she kept a firm grip on his shoulders, unsure of what the man's intentions were. Diend raised his hand holding the object to the gaping wound in his friend's back and cried, "Mend!" The next instant was something quite unexpected. Right before her eyes the kanji for "mend" appeared before her eyes in a vibrant blue color as Diend wrote quickly in the empty space before him.

With a dramatic flourish he completed the character. The kanji glowed, descending onto the wound. Dalia watched as the tattoo began to dissolve from his skin, edges of the wound began to glow and grow closer together. Skin and muscle wove together, repairing the wound from the inside out until there was only the remnant of an iron branding scar as a reminder of the events that took place moments ago. It took but a moment for Deker to respond, inhaling sharply, shifting slightly on the floor. "The worst is over, but he will he need to rest," Diend sighed, rising to his feet.

"H-how did you do that?"

"Perhaps I will tell you another time," Said Diend. "At the moment I must see to the perimeter of your home." With a small bow of his head he turned and stepped out of the room, leaving Dalia to her thoughts. She stared down at scorch mark left behind by the creature ripped from Deker's body. The sight of it made her uncomfortable, made her wonder if she was as good as she thought she was with the power of a religion she knew so little about. Gently she lay Deker on his stomach and rose from her position on the floor.


	18. Bedside Manner

**Title:** Bedside Manner

**Prompt:** "White"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

_Groan._

"Oh… Oh, Deker! You're awake!"

"…What happened?"

"Good morning."

"Dalia, what happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"I… I remember a little. A white light, pain the mostly."

"I came into your bedroom late last night-"

"Why were you-?"

"You were moaning in your sleep again. I tried to ignore it but you were persistent."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. When I came in to check on you, you weren't too happy about being disturbed."

"Well, that I remember. You said something about my back, about wanting to see it."

"Yes, and you were horribly resistant to the idea, so I took matters into my own hands. There was a black mark on your lower back. One I'd never seen before."

"I've always had a scar down there. Well, ever since I've arrived here that is."

"It's not the branding scar I refer to, it was something else. A black mark that looked like a hand and when I touched it you behaved as though I'd stabbed you."

"…"

"Deker?"

"That- that was real? It wasn't a dream?"

"You thought it was a dream?"

"Yes. It wasn't?"

"No, no it wasn't. When we touched that black mark you went mad; writhing about in pain like someone stabbed you. When we - Diend and myself - turned you over, some insect like creature popped out of your back. It was horrible; it was like it'd eaten its way out of your body!"

"…"

"Diend yanked it from your body and killed it with an anointed blade. I- are you alright?"

"I feel very ill all of a sudden."

"Diend said you would, the effects of the spell will linger for a while."

"A spell? I was cursed?"

"In a way, yes. But you shouldn't worry, other than the fatigue there shouldn't be any other side effects."

"If what you say is true, how am I still alive? You said it ate its way free of my body, I should be dead."

"It was Diend; he performed some sort of magic - some sort of symbol power that mended the wound. He still hasn't told me how he's done it yet."

"It was all real."

"Yes."

"I- I need to rest, very tired."

"Perhaps you should eat first. It's almost been a full day since the incident."

"I'd- I'd rather not, my stomach is turning, I'd rather not.'

"Yes, of course. Please let me know if you change your mind."


	19. Mirrors

**Title:** Mirrors

**Prompt:** "Colorless"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Octoroo was the only Nighlok Dayu could stomach. Xandred she tolerated, respected even, on the basis that he hadn't killed her when Serrator dragged her down into the netherworld.

Octoroo, though he was not unlike the rest of the self-serving creatures that the Sanzu River was teeming with, made it a point to be kind to her and treat her like an equal instead of a lowly maidservant to be ignored.

Amusingly, he behaved like a spineless, colorless creature, often cowering or slinking behind Xandred as he plotted his revenge, but Dayu knew better. Octoroo was as cunning, if not more dangerous than Xandred himself if only for playing the noisy fool like he has for the past thousand or so years.

It was because of him she learned to adjust her present living situation. If he hadn't she was quite sure she would've been gone madder within a few days of arriving to the netherworld.


	20. Sunday Morning

**Title:** Sunday Morning

**Prompt:** "Friends"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Deker made it a point to wash his clothes every day. As he only owned the uniform he arrived in and his nightclothes, it was almost a routine, watching him shed his clothing and head into washroom and busy himself with scrubbing his clothes to pieces. If Dalia had any skill with thread and sewing needles, she might've been able to make him at least one new piece to wear.

Diend didn't see the point in such obsessive-compulsive behavior; he also didn't take kindly to Deker calling his own attire a "dress" and it citing that as a reason to refuse to wear the ones available to him. Nevertheless, his actions revealed to her that the stubbornness that had him refuse slumber upon his arrival to her home seemed inherent in everything he did.

If he wasn't cleaning his clothes, he fiddled with his pistol and bayonet, melting down what he could find for bullets. And if he wasn't working with his weapons, he was trying and failing to mimic Diend's fighting style with a broken broom stick. If he was caught, Diend often whacked him with his sheathed katana.

"Your posture is poor, you don't swing a sword like that, moron," Diend's reprimands were continually lost on Deker, who's Japanese was still infantile despite his best efforts to learn the language. Nursing the hickey's as result of one too many blows to the head, Deker would often mutter to her, "With friends like him, who needs enemies?" A familiar sentiment, one that made her laugh at his indignation.


	21. Starboard Observations

**Title:** Starboard Observations

**Prompt:** "Enemies"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** None in particular

* * *

It was hard to believe that a group of teenagers were supposed to be their enemies. From observation through the cracks none of them seemed entirely in their element despite their studious behavior around the Red Ranger.

Blue was lacking an individual identity beyond his servitude to Red, Red always appeared to be elsewhere no matter his situation; and Green seemed the only one with indelible personality, but was equally out of sorts.

In particular, the Pink and Yellow Rangers seemed so eager to submit to the subservient and traditional roles of young women despite their strength, allowing the men to perform the bulk of the work.

It was sickening, especially when she thought of the previous Yellow and Pink retainers of the Shiba clan. Now they were formidable foes, both in mind and body.

It begrudged her to even think that they could match her in skill even a little bit; despite her general unawareness, the Pink Ranger put up a good fight whenever they crossed blades.

She would have to fix that.


	22. I lost the counter of where I end

**Title:** I lost the counter of where I end you begin

**Prompt:** "Lovers"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

He wasn't sure when it started, but he could see progress. A kiss on the cheek here, a hug there, Deker could feel himself becoming more relaxed with crossing the boundaries of her personal space because she seemed to allow it. Between trying to map out where he'd started and where he ended up without specifics as to where "here" was and helping Diend in his rehabilitation (when he allowed it), relations with Dalia was the last thing on his mind.

He'd go as far as saying it wasn't on his mind at all until she started to kiss him on the cheek. A friendly gesture to be sure, but Deker started to wonder if there was something she was trying to tell him something. And then there was the infrequent, but accidental times she walked in on him during after a bath; how hard was it to inquire if someone decent or bathing? Surely she hadn't been without the company of others for so long that she forgot such a simple procedure.

Still, he remained sociable with her and made no moves to "claim" her as his own, much to his libido's disappointment. There's no denying she was a beautiful woman; he couldn't count the times he dared to steal a view of her when she wasn't looking, admiring her long chestnut hair done up in a bun and pale skin that took on a warm pink hue when she became flushed.

He tried to remain focused on trying to ascertain a route to take in order to regroup with his company if it wasn't too late.

He'd spent far too much time here as it-

"Deker?" He jumped at the touch of her fingers curling around his arm. Turning he found himself face to face with Dalia.

"Dalia, I didn't hear you come in," He greeted. "What is it you need?" Dalia shook her head, biting the edge of her lip. He watched her carefully, unsure of how to react to her silence. He was pretty sure he didn't leave nightclothes in a pile on the floor, she often got pretty quiet when he didn't make an effort to keep his and Diend's room clean.

"May I ask you something, Deker?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Are you engaged to someone in the colonies? A wealthy lady perhaps?"

Deker blinked. "No, no I'm not," He replied, suddenly realizing where this conversation was going. The ghost of a smile appeared on Dalia's lips as she made herself comfortable next to him, leaning against the table. "Then may I ask why you're so intent on rejecting my advances?"

"I believed you were simply being friendly," Deker answered somewhat honestly. That made Dalia laugh, she leaned to the side and nudged him in the ribs. Deker was slightly taken aback, his pride scrambling to pick its pieces up as he tried to maintain a façade of calm and the color of his skin normal. "I'm friendly with Diend, he is a friend. You're my friend as well, but… I'd like us to be more," She stated bluntly.

"Really?" He deadpanned.

"Yes," Said Dalia, giving him a pointed look. "However, if you wish to remain friends, I'll simply stop my advances, remain your friend." She paused and thought for a moment, moving closer to him. "Do you wish to remain friends?" Her hand played with his, fingers weaving their way between his own, just waiting for a response in kind.

Now there were two ways in which that question could be answered; truthfully and dishonestly, yes or no. He could feel the skin around his neck prickle and his heart jump at the possibility of becoming Dalia's lover, yet his mind rebelled against it, reminding him constantly of the obligation he had to the army and his people. The moment he decided to abandon them, he abandoned- well, everything he stood for.

Yet, he still found himself saying. "No, I don't," and smiling while he said it. His fingers pressed themselves against her knuckles as she stood up slightly on her tiptoes to kiss her. "Neither do I," She replied. Deker closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. She giggled a little at the way his facial hair made her skin prickle, eliciting a laugh from Deker. Wrapping her free arm around his waist, Dalia pulled him closer and untangled her hand from his to touch his face.

Deker felt a tiny twinge of guilt somewhere in his heart; he did his best to ignore it.


	23. Where'd you get that?

**Title:** Where'd you get that?

**Prompt:** "Family"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** None in particular

* * *

Dayu often wondered if her family ever wondered about her fate when they were alive to care. There was a time, as Dalia, she went months homesick and yearning for the comfort of her mother's arms. Even In the company of the old priestess, Mako, who was as nurturing as she was harsh, Dalia felt no amount of affection or friendliness from others would fill void of her family's love.

Even in the company of Deker, who fulfilled a different kind of emptiness, she still missed her family, even when the prospect of creating her own was option open to her. The pang was less pronounced, yes, but it would never be fulfilled until she found some way to make enough money to journey back to Angel Grove.

In the gloom of her exile to the netherworld, the idea of family almost became laughable. A funny little dream deferred by the realities of her circumstances. Barren and dead as the misshapen Nighlok women she encountered every now and again, Dayu wondered how she ever thought she was worthy enough for a family.


	24. I really don't know who you think I am

**Title:** I really don't know who you think I am

**Prompt:** "Strangers"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

They were but strangers to him. Circling the towering Nighlok that had the soldiers entrapped in a strange webbing, he puzzled over how they could call for him, entreat him with such familiarity as if they were brothers.

Did he know them once? Perhaps, but the void he called his mind and soul couldn't muster the slightest bit of concern for their lives, now dangling on the literal threads of a monstrous spider demon. The Nighlok threatened him, warned him away from his rightfully earned meal. The leader of the soldiers was shouting at him now, demanding that he answer his call, but again, Deker couldn't bring himself to care.

Uramasa moaned in his hand, the flat of the blade pressed against his sheathe, begging to be released. It didn't care whose quarrel was whose, it just wanted to kill. He hated it, how he often found his willpower reduced to nothing for the sake of satisfying its needs and not his own. Exhaling in resignation, he touched a hand to his hilt and pulled Uramasa free. The Nighlok pointed an accusatory claw in his direction. "I told you once, I will not be denied my meal!"

"So you did, but Uramasa is hungry," Deker replied. "And what Uramasa wants Uramasa gets."

Without hesitation he transformed and charged forward.


	25. Best Friends, Right?

**Title:** Best Friends, Right?

**Prompt:** "Teammates"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Dalia laughed at the sight of him, sullied and looking quite unlike himself sitting in the middle of the bath. "You did that?" She inquired, stifling another laugh. Deker shot a glance in Diend's direction with all the venom of a plotting scorpion. Dalia looked to Diend for an answer; the samurai shrugged his shoulders, looking absolutely indifferent to the other man's rage. Focusing his attention on Dalia, he said, "I wished to teach him a lesson, so I did."

"If you call knocking me into a sinkhole full of mud teaching a lesson on balance, then I have to strongly disagree," Deker muttered darkly, submerging hisself into the bath water. He'd nearly gotten himself clean of all the mud when Dalia returned to the Minka, understandably upset at the sight of all the mud tracked through her house. "It's the most disrespectful thing you could do a person's house!" She chided him. "Especially in this country."

"I intended to clean it up once I washed myself," He rebuked. "If you want to blame anyone for this, blame Diend. He shoved me into the mud." This brought them to the present situation of events. Dalia approached the tub and kneeled before it, Deker emerged from under the water, his hair plastered around his head, masking his eyes. Rolling her sleeve up she reached over to pull his hair out of his eyes, he opened one eye and pouted at the smile on her face. Raising his chin out of the water, he said, "I'm completely blameless in this."

"Blameless, ha!" She ruffled his hair, fingernails scratching his scalp. "Perhaps you should listen to your teacher when he says to center yourself."

Deker glared, Diend smiled, appreciative of Dalia's support.


	26. Body and Soul

**Title:** Body and Soul

**Prompt:** "Parents"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

"Will you help me find them?" The little girl tugged on the hem of his robe. She was a teary eyed thing, chubby faced and pig-tailed, the picture of innocence. The kind of blood Uramasa loved best, he mused. Closing his eyes he sought to calm the rage boiling up inside him, sending a chill down his spine. Unfolding his eyes from the Indian-style pose he relaxed in, he looked at the little girl who probably stood no higher than his kneecap and asked, "Find who?"

"My parents," The little girl replied with a sniffle. Behind him he could Uramasa fidgeting in the sheathe situated on the park bench. It wanted her blood, but he would have none of it. She continued to watch him, imploring him silently for help, a help he would use to his own advantage if given the chance. Scanning the expanse of the park, he tried to see if he could find a duo searching for a missing piece.

"Kendrix! Kendrix, where are you?!" He shifted his eyes in time to watch the pig-tailed girl's face light up. She waved excitedly in the direction the voice came then turned to him. "Thank you, mister!" He tensed up, expecting her to hug him, but she didn't. The girl ran down the pathway to her parents as fast as her little legs could carry her. When she was in her mother's arms, Deker allowed himself to relax a little.

Behind him, Uramasa fell from off the bench with a clang, its way of expressing its displeasure with his decision.


	27. I've been so many places in my life and

**Title:** I've been so many places in my life and time

**Prompt:** "Children"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Dalia followed her escort from the ship as quickly as she could. Her heeled boots made her uneasy as she moved down the ramp with her bags. Japan was quite unlike the romantic world she envisioned and heard so much about from her father's colleges.

Well, the harbor was at least. It smelled like fish and wet wood, just like the harbor in the colonies. At least the people were different, she mused. Quite different in both mannerism and body language. With a place as crowded as this she was surprised that they could move around as easily as they could. There were children running about the place as if the docks were a playground and they the kings and queens of the world, even when they were shooed away from the bus bodies hard at work.

"Deke, get your head out of the clouds for moment and help us, eh?" She looked to the right; the soldiers were busy with helping the ship workers with unloading their belongings.

"Yes, sir!" A voice came from behind her. His footsteps were clumsy and quick, before she knew it the Deke in question bumped into her, skating on the edge of the ramp's edge as he continued down. He barely spared her a glance when he said, "Excuse me, ma'am", and continued on his way. Dalia huffed in annoyance as she righted herself and completed her journey to solid ground.

The nerve of some people.


	28. The sky was dark this morning

**Title:** The sky was dark this morning

**Prompt:** "Birth"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"We'll have to be going soon," Deker sighed. Diend looked up from his blade as the whetstone traveled down the edge of the weapon. "Oh?" He said. Deker nodded in response, though he looked none-to-pleased with the confirmation of his own words. "It's been too long since we left the battlefield, your more than mended from your injuries. And…" He sighed again, chewing on the inside of his mouth.

"And?" Diend prompted, never once removing his eyes from his katana.

"And that's that," Deker finished. "We shouldn't have stayed as long as we have." In the dying light of the evening, the two men had taken a moment to enjoy each other's company without the pretense of training or bickering. Without those elements it seemed they still had little to say to each other. Even as Deker's Japanese was becoming better, Diend never humored his friend with speaking English in kind. He'd been around him and Dalia long enough to learn it, but he hated how it rolled across his tongue. Thus, "And", "Oh", "No", "Yes", "Thank you", "Okay", "Dalia" and "Deker" was the extent of his spoken English and all he ever wanted to say.

Deker wanted to leave, return to the fray of battle - a battle he and his men may have already lost. But he knew his friend didn't want to leave Dalia behind, or take her with them. There was no chance they could protect her in a war zone, there was a good chance Deker would be unable to find his way back to her once the fighting was done over with. His general ignorance of the land would undoubtedly keep them separated and if she went in search of him, there was little chance they'd ever find each other again.

Either way the situation gave birth to a slew of moral and emotional problems that Diend was glad he had no part in.

The obligation to his army and Dalia pulled him in two directions, but the choice was his to make. "Do you think we should leave?"

"I plan on leaving as soon as I can. What you decide to is your choice, Deker," Diend replied.

There was an exasperated sigh. "I figured you'd say something like that," Deker grumbled. "Make up my own mind, eh?"

Diend nodded. "Yes."

"I suppose I'll have to."


	29. Life's not living and living ain't free

**Title:** Life's not living and living ain't free

**Prompt:** "Death"

**Season:** Winter

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Gone.

She woke to the sound of calm.

There wasn't a trace of either of them when she woke that morning expecting to hear their discombobulated chatter. Swallowed up in the silence, she searched the rooms in the Minka for them and their belongings.

When she couldn't find them in the house, she ventured out the farm houses. Her horses still remained, but there wasn't any sign of them there either. Standing in the middle of her property she listened for the sounds of human life, anything that would let her know they were nearby. Inspection of the well and the doorways of the buildings let her know the protective charms weren't broken or removed, so they had to have left under their own power.

Without telling her.

She reentered the house and searched for one last time. The only thing of theirs she found was Diend's knife and a note addressed to her Deker, both of which were next to her bed. Opening the letter she tried her best to read his shaky handwriting.

_Dalia_

_I'm sorry, but I could not in good conscious stay with you._

_I have to see if I can't find my company and Diend's._

_If they're still alive, I'll see what I can do for them._

_I love you, I hope you are not too angry with me._

_I'll promise to return, if you'll have me._

_Decker_

"Bastard," Dalia growled balling the paper up and tossing it across the way. There was no forgiving this kind of cowardice.

* * *

**[WINTER'S END]**


	30. One More Time Around

**Title:** One More Time Around

**Prompt:** "Sunrise"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "A Fish out of Water"

* * *

There was an energy in the air that he hadn't felt in over two hundred years. Lost in the crowd of bodies, he roamed the nameless city following the cry of Uramasa without hesitation for the first time in a decade.

Ever since the banishment of Xandred and his army of Nighloks boredom had settled into his bones like a cold that nettled at his already thin patience. There was no one to fight, no one worthy anyway. Swords went out of fashion the moment firearms were deemed the superior weapon, warfare was altered so radically that it seemed to useless to try and participate.

Deker was reduced to a spectator of events that wanted nothing to do with him, he was a relic with the unfortunate label of "ceremonial ornament", yet the desire to fight remained strong as ever. Beyond the island of Japan, the men and women of progressive age were hardly worthy opponents, killing them would almost be shameful - if shame still meant something to him. He killed to maintain his piece of mind, he killed to quell Uramasa's thirst for blood. Every sunrise, every sunset was a painful repetition that he wished to see the end of.

What was the point of "immorality" if he couldn't pleasure himself with it?

As if to answer his question, the cracks of the latest city he wandered into bled red with hate and let loose those he never thought he'd see again. Xandred was awake and with his resurrection brought the prospect of a worthy opponent. Uramasa had never been so excited since the Restoration, it even had the nerve to glow in the presence of the Samurai Rangers, but which one did it one want to fight?


	31. Hey Man Nice Shot

**Title:** Hey Man Nice Shot

**Prompt:** "Sunset"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "There Go the Brides"

* * *

She had to admit, she was rusty. It was easy to mock the Nighlok who couldn't get a simple job, like destroying the Rangers, done when she was on the sidelines. It was a general belief that most Nighloks were stupid, but out on the frontlines one was tempted to change her point of view on their problems.

Dayu planned and planned for every contingency or loophole that could be used against her, but her ultimate downfall was undoubtedly the one weakness that brought her to this very situation. Love, life and marriage. Embittered by the past as she was, it still shook her to the core to see so many happy faces on the women preparing for their "special day".

She had a special day once upon a time, then the sunset came. It was short lived dream, deferred by the manipulation of one who ultimately orchestrated her demise. Why should they get be happy when she wasn't? So, yes, she gave into her baser instincts, made it a point ruin every wife-to-be's wedding, utilizing their agony to flood the Sanzu River as per orders. She watched as the cocoon of suffering women fed the river at the same time it wove her wedding dress back into existence at painstakingly slow rate. There was barely a dress to speak of when the Yellow Ranger foiled her plans and ruined everything.

Caught off her guard she fought the Rangers, fueled by her rage, only to be beaten back by the unexpected amount of firepower they wielded. On top of her defeat, she was whisked away to the netherworld by the one person she didn't need to see then. Deker rescued her from supercharged attack from the Red Ranger, declaring the minute excuse for a warrior his ultimate opponent.

Serrator had reduced her husband to a single-minded warmonger, damned his sword with a sentience that spurred him on a literal suicide mission. Deker was a both a welcome and sorry sight to behold after so many years on the bottom of the Sanzu river. In the red nebula of their homeworld Dayu fought to break free of his vice grip, yet he seemed to have forgotten she was even there despite her struggles.

"Let go of me!" She slapped the top of his head with her free hand. Deker came to an abrupt halt resulting in a last minute reaction from the woman; she spun on one heel to avoid his body, Deker released her hand without argument. Dayu clutched her wrist protectively, fighting the back the memory of her first arrival. "I didn't need you to save me," She hissed.

"It wasn't you I was trying to save," Deker responded curtly. "In fact, you were in mine and Uramasa's way. The Red Ranger is mine."

She scoffed. "You think I care about the Red Ranger? You can have him, kill him if you wish. It would only make my Master Xandred happy."

"My intention is not to kill the Red Ranger but to duel him," Deker clarified with a nod of his head. "If anyone dies…" He trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders. Dayu watched him circle her, his petrified yellow eyes looking her and up and down. "So this is all you are?" She asked.

He titled his head to the side. "I'm a warrior. If it is my destiny to fight then I am not one to question it," Deker replied, walking away from her. "Come, I must speak with your precious Master Xandred."

She followed him back to the ship, fighting the urge to turn him around slap him once more. This creature she followed, he wasn't Deker. He might as well have died in the fire.


	32. Obsessive Compulsive

**Title:** Obsessive Compulsive

**Prompt:** "Too Much"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "I've Got a Spell on Blue"

* * *

His presence perturbed them, those wounded children. Hesitantly they drew closer to him, curious to know his opinion (of all things) on the manipulated battle of will vs. blind obedience. And though he heard himself relay the very thoughts on his mind, almost verbatim, Deker himself was focused on the movement of the Red Ranger.

The boy was barely out of his adolescence and fought with the grace and diligence of the old sword masters; that in itself was a commendable feat few pulled off in their adulthood. He stood transfixed in his place, watching the ease in which Red deflected Blue's clumsy attacks, his every intention of keeping his opponent off balance for as long as possible. The sound of their blades colliding was almost too much to handle, how he wanted to fight.

Oblivion was so close, he could taste it.


	33. What Goes Around

**Title:** What Goes Around

**Prompt:** "Not Enough"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Dalia continued on with her life on Mako's farm; ate, slept and bathed the same as she did before she met Diend and Deker. Time marched on without them, she followed after it and rebuilt from the perspective of a woman living on her own.

The funny thing about company, though, it is never truly left you after you experienced it. Empty as their bedroom was, it felt overcrowded if she left the door open. Tea time without Diend felt like she waiting for someone to happen, the grease and oil stains on the far end of the stables reminded how much time Deker spent with his back to the world and his attention focused on the mechanics of his pistol. As angry as she was with them for leaving without saying "goodbye", she missed them more.

When she found him again it was in the middle of a market, almost a year and a half later. The war was an ongoing situation, but the level of Mooger attacks were becoming less frequent in the countryside, instead increasing within the city limits. Half of the American forces began to travel back to the colonies, unexpectedly preoccupied with yet another conflict of their own.

The remaining soldiers and samurai continued to roam the rural areas in the event of a wayward attack, but it was evident that the Nighlok were more interested in what the cities had to offer. Roaming the isles of stands, Dalia paid no attention to the passer-byer that crossed her path, preoccupied with searching for a meal. Like something out a dream their gazes for a second then broke away; she didn't seem to recognize him, he didn't seem to realize it was her.

At the last moment she raised her line of sight to the man as his face turned away from her. Dalia's breath shortened and heart skipped, she turned in a double-take. "Deker?" The man took a few more steps before he did the same, his expression mirrored her astonishment.

"Dalia?" Deker looked a wreck, like he hadn't slept in days. He was thinner and frailer than when she first met him, his hair was shorter, his beard trimmer, but ready to fall over at any moment. Dalia closed the distance between them, hands trembling. Her fingers brushed the fabric of his frayed jacket, Deker grasped her fingers gently.

More than a thousand different questions ran through her head. She wanted to know why he never came back sooner, when he arrived in town and where he'd been. Without warning she found herself in a hug, hoisted slightly off the ground. Wrapping her free arm around him, she buried her face into his neck. Deker tensed up at the sensation of being squeezed, it was hard to miss, but maintained a cool head. Dalia pulled away from him, ignoring the disapproving looks they were receiving from the crowd. "I thought you were dead, what happened?" She asked. "Where's Diend?"

Deker took a moment to respond to her question. He seemed hesitant to speak the moment he heard Diend's name. Parting his lips, he said, "I found my company, what remained of it. We fought- we were fighting…" He trailed off, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. "I can't- I can't do this out here." Deker looked about the environment with an almost paranoid expression. Dalia took a glance around the marketplace her, unsure of what he was looking for. Placing a hand on his forearm she nodded. "Alright, we can return to the farm. Would you like that?"

"More than anything," Deker breathed. And so Dalia lead Deker away from the marketplace back to the farm. All the while she did her best not to agitate him any further than he already was. The evening sun was set high in the sky when they finally returned to the farm; Deker wandered the house for a moment like a ghost readjusting to an old haunt. After a while he sat down next to her at the table, the circles under his eyes were more pronounced than before.

He didn't speak right away; she didn't rush him, instead choosing to entertain him with tales of her mundane routine on the farm since he left. Deker seemed to respond positively to her stories; the rigidity she felt in his body began to lax. When she ran out of things to say they fell into silence, a silence that was gradually removed from between them when Deker opened up about his absence from home. The military was often romanticized by her family, to hear about the military was to know you were serving a higher purpose, the greater good.

Yet, Deker's description of the sleeping conditions, low morale, crooked officers and discord between the soldiers and the samurai, made it seem the very opposite. The group had been ambushed almost on a daily basis, the roads were patrolled by Moogers who occupied villages burnt to the ground or harvested for human suffering. Sufficed to say, everyone in the group was on their last good nerve, both with each other and the enemy. The company did their best to loosen the grip of the Nighlok in the countryside, but the pronounced presence of their master made their defeat a hard thing to achieve. There were times where some of his accounts told felt incomplete, if she asked if there was any more to the story he would become quiet.

"We were making our way north when we were ambushed by Moogers. We managed to destroy most of them, but in the confusion I lost track of Diend. I couldn't find him."

"He's dead," She stated more than asked. It was the only explanation besides a sour parting of ways that could explain his agitated state of mind.

"N-no, I lost him on the battlefield-," He took a breath. "I couldn't find him, we had to leave without him," Said Deker. "I tried to stay and look for him, but the Moogers were regrouping and that monster-." He shook head, refusing to face her. "I don't know if he's dead or alive somewhere, I couldn't find him. I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault, Deker," Dalia cupped his face gently, bringing his gaze over to hers. His tired eyes met her own, expressing a dozen unspoken regrets that ended with added apologies. "You can't blame yourself for something out of your control."

"I know I shouldn't, but I feel responsible nonetheless."

"You'll find him again, I'm sure of it," She whispered. Their foreheads touched for a moment, Dalia rubbed her nose against his, her lips brushing against the edge of his mouth. Deker felt his pulse quicken at her touch, her fingers ghosted across the hairs of his arm, enticing him closer. "I missed you Dalia," He breathed.

Dalia smiled at his words; pulling her body closer to his she wrapped her arms around his waist and straddled him. Deker held her in his arms, savoring every moment of her proximity to his body. There was no way she forgave him for leaving, but he intended to let the matter lie for as long as humanly possible.


	34. Specters in the Fog

**Title:** Specters in the Fog

**Prompt:** "Sixth Sense"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Forest for the Trees"

* * *

There was very little for Deker to do when he wasn't planning for the greatest duel in the universe. In the gloom of the bamboo forest Deker roamed the winding path, contemplating on nothing much at all beyond his own heartbeat (at least what he thought was a heartbeat). Uramasa was quiet for the time being and he was alone.

The sun set behind the clouds sometime in the afternoon, eliminating the heat that blistered the ground beneath him. Switching between his human and Nighlok form Deker counted the number of shadows that gathered around his general vicinity. Neither heard nor seen, they crept around the trees, swinging around the structures like jolly tricksters ready to spring a trap. Deker didn't mind them much, they couldn't touch him, he couldn't touch them.

They brought trouble with them, sure enough; he lost count of how many times he tried to start a fire only to have it snuffed by a gust of wind. He lost his temper and was rewarded with chorus of laughter that didn't sound much like laughter at all. In the dark of the night he was finally allowed to light a fire that burned hot and bright, but he could feel them running about outside the perimeter of his camp, not a care in the world.

Unsheathing his sword, Deker studied the slumbering Uramasa with the usual reverence. It'd been quiet all day, he was actually beginning to miss its cloying presence.


	35. Dirty Laundry

**Title:** Dirty Laundry

**Prompt:** "Smell"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

There was no getting this smell out of his clothes. A mixture of mud, blood and the rather unfortunate aroma of excrement, no amount of scrubbing Dayu bothered to punish his uniform with seemed to do the trick. Fighting the urge to retch, she tossed the abhorring articles of clothing outside onto the ground with every intention of setting a fire to them. Deker was still fast asleep in his knickers, if she was lucky she could burn them without alerting him to the fate of his clothes at all.

There was no telling where he went or what he'd fallen into when he was wearing that thing, it added more validity to the stories he told her (not that she didn't believe him). It was a marvel that he hadn't died of a contracted disease wearing them for as long as he did. Lighting a match she dropped the flame onto the clothing and watched as the fire consumed the fabric.

Dusting her hands on her clothes she headed back into the house, reminding herself to send Deker out to buy some new clothes.


	36. Appetite Disturbance

**Title:** Appetite Disturbance

**Prompt:** "Sound"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Test of a Leader"

* * *

It wasn't like he was helping the Samurai Rangers, not intentionally anyway. But the Nighlok sent by Xandred had every intention of killing the Red Ranger, and that was something he could not let come to pass while he still breathed.

In an act of rebellion against the Nighlok master, he crossed blades with his fellow "kin" and the Red Ranger. He enjoyed every minute of dodging their swords, fending off their attacks in quarters tight enough to maim him. The screech of steel against steel irritated his teeth, the sound of their feet against the gravel informed of their every move.

Despite his reputation, the Nighlok was confounded by his actions against him. In an entirely different way, the Red Ranger was baffled by what he assumed was a change of allegiance against his fellow demons.

Hardly a switch of allegiance, simply a self-reassurance that no one killed his quarry. As brief as their battle was, Deker enjoyed it, and made it a point let the Red Ranger know it.

In the words of a stranger he once crossed paths with, his ass belonged to him and him alone.


	37. Presumptuous

**Title:** Presumptuous

**Prompt:** "Touch"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Jayden's Challenge"

* * *

Master Xandred had called him out into open under the pretense of a "talk". Infuriated by the hybrid's constant interference, Xandred stalked around the confines of his ship, blade dragging across the hardwood floor. Dayu stared at the grooves the master created with mild concern; Deker was no fool, he must've known what Xandred was intending to do with him the moment he showed.

Unless he was degenerative in the mind, in which case he was going to get a real surprise when he arrived. "That Deker's had it now," Octoroo said to no one in particular shuffling up to the window where she stood. Dayu chose to kept her opinion to herself, her eyes wandered the landscape of the shore.

A red fissure appeared on the far left, she watched with baited breath as Deker appeared, sword sheathed and arms hanging idly at his side. He was far too relaxed for her liking. The air took a shift for the worse, the copper smell of blood filled her nose, she cast her gaze on the water.

It was churning slightly, slapping excitedly against the ship, signaling the spike in Xandred's power. When the courtesan looked up, Xandred was already upon Deker - bearing down him with all the force of his rage. In place of a self-assured warrior was a Nighlok attempting to explain himself to no avail, Xandred attacked him with the aid of the Moogers, driving him into the water.

This isn't good, she thought, touching a hand to her chin. Xandred exerted the last of his powers and trapped Deker with a binding spell, allowing the Moogers to attack without fear of being destroyed. The binding spell lasted longer than she expected it to, leading her into the false presumption that perhaps half-Nighloks weren't as "unique" as Octoroo made them out to be. When he finally broke free, he shred his demon form and relinquished the fight, fleeing into deeper waters like a salmon.

"Looks like Xandred's binding spell doesn't work on humans after all," Octoroo mused disappointed.

"Looks like," Dayu rolled her head in exasperation and moved away from the window. Octoroo shuffled his way around to face her, bewildered by her attitude. "Where are you going?" He asked.

Dayu didn't stop when she replied, "For a walk. I'll return shortly."


	38. Restraining Order

**Title:** Restraining Order

**Prompt:** "Taste"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Jayden's Challenge"

* * *

Things were changing, both for the better and the worse. Swimming through the murky red waters, churning with the cackles of Nighlok who'd been witness to his defeat, Deker made a point to get as far away from Xandred and his ship as possible. He hadn't been expecting that at all, the fool actually thought he was helping the humans?

Had someone spiked his "medicine"? _Idiot, fool, moron, stupid, slow!_ Deker heard the words running through his head but he wasn't sure if he was referring to himself or Xandred's presumptuous, disingenuous accusations.

Emerging from the water he bit back a cry of a pain. Oh, gods, he hadn't felt this awful since he woke in the forest burnt to a crisp. And there was the blood, he could actually _taste_ blood in the back of his throat. A first, he thought, he believed he didn't have blood. Everything in his body burned with Xandred's poisonous spell, it was weaving itself through the very fiber of his being and he couldn't stop it.

He'd used the strength available to him to break the spell before it could become permanent, yet it did little to assuage the pain eating at him. He could barely feel Nighlok half anymore, he felt ill and ready retch his insides out. Dragging his body up onto the shore, he got as far from the water as he could before collapsing.

This was not a good place to lose consciousness yet there was little he could to push himself any further. The darkness crept around the edges of his vision, closing in faster and faster. His knees buckled beneath him, falling forward he hit the ground. The hot stones pressed into the skin, Deker clutched Uramasa for dear life, for once trying to focus on its pitchy scream.


	39. Woe is He

**Title:** Woe is He

**Prompt:** "Sight"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Blue for the Gold"

* * *

Finding him wasn't as hard as she thought it would be. Strolling idly through the netherworld, Dayu had assumed that she would have to venture into the human world to find him. Instead she almost walked on him as a result of not paying attention to her surroundings.

He was a pitiful sight to behold.

He laid on the ground in what looked like a man in mid-escape. There wasn't a flaw anywhere on his skin to her surprise, not a single blade wielded by the Moogers touched him in his battle against Xandred. Now that she found him, Dayu was tempted to leave him as he was. How many times a decade did he allow himself to fall to oblivion's touch, the arms of true darkness?

How silly of her, she was worried for a man who thought of her as a minor nuisance on the road to his goal. She had all the time in the world to adjust to the idea that Deker was no longer the man she knew, that he was a puppet being led around for Serrator's amusement. Yet, if her harmonium was an indication of anything, she really hadn't accepted it yet.

At all.

Kneeling down she took another moment to study his expression. Even in unconsciousness he wore a scowl on his face, troubled by the desire to fight. Reaching forward Dayu pressed her fingers to his face and traced his jaw. He didn't respond, he was as unmoving as he was seconds ago. Moving her fingers through his hair, she placed a hand on his shoulder blade and shoved him slightly. "Wake up," She whispered. To her surprise his eyes opened few minutes later, his complexion became ghostly pale. He shifted his gaze over her and blinked owlishly. "You again," He murmured.

"It's Dayu if you're curious," She remarked, rising to her feet. Deker was slow to get up, master Xandred's spell was not without its effects she noted. Leaning forward she extended her hand to him. Deker stared at it as if were diseased, maybe offended that she thought he needed help. Nevertheless he grasped her hand with his trembling one and she helped him up onto his feet. She tried not to laugh how his legs wobbled as he fought to keep himself steady on his feet. "You should know better than to interfere with master Xandred's plans," She told him, her tone teasing.

Deker scoffed. "Had I known the snake planned to bind me, I might've not come at all," He groaned. "Thank you."

Dayu shrugged. "Don't thank me. I just happened to be walking by when I saw you there," It wasn't a lie, but nor was it the truth. As far as she was concerned Deker couldn't tell the difference unless someone had a sword pointed at him. "Regardless…" He trailed off, looking bemused by her actions when she turned to face him. "Let me ask you something," She said.

Deker, still hung over, stumbled by her and transformed back into his Nighlok form, relieved the power to do so wasn't lost to him. "Feel free," He groaned again. He almost sounded amused.

"I've heard things about you, stranger," Dayu began. "I've heard you… that you don't remember your life before becoming a Nighlok. Is it true?" The skull faced monster nodded slowly, reaching behind him he unsheathed his sword. Her present to him. "It is true, I've no memory of my life before waking as a Nighlok. How it happened, who or what I fell to damnation for," He said, admiring his weapon in the light of the red sunlight.

"And that doesn't bother you?" She asked stepping forward so that she was beside him.

"There was a time where it might've bothered me, but it hardly matters. I am a warrior, and as a warrior I've only one role in this life. I remember nothing beyond the desire to fight, so, no, nothing else matters, not even my past life," He answered. Dayu said nothing in response, knowing she couldn't say anything that didn't paint her a hypocrite.

"And what of you?" He inquired. "You and I are alike. Why do you serve a demon who despises us? Why remain as you are?"

Dayu brought her harmonium forward and pressed it to her chest. "Master Xandred spared me, saved my life when he could've destroyed me. I am in his debt," She said. "As to why I remain like this?" She used one hand to make a wide gesture. "I happen to suffer from a bit of self-hatred. I hate humans, the very sight of them makes my skin crawl."

"I think your lying," If Deker's frozen façade could smile it would've. Dayu shrugged her shoulders. "Think what you want stranger, it makes no difference to me," She told him. Sheathing his sword he moved away from her, heading off into the wide open plains of the netherworld.

His words hurt more than she knew, but he wasn't himself she argued. Deker wasn't someone who simply abandoned the things that mattered to him, but under Serrator's curse, stripped of his humanity, it wasn't a stretch for his personality as alerted as it was.

If there was a way to fix the damage done, she'd do it in a heartbeat.

Even if it meant running him through herself.


	40. Woe is She

**Title:** Woe is She

**Prompt:** "Shapes"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Blue for the Gold"

* * *

Dayu was a puzzle.

She lied about everything, groveled to a worthless demon restricted to the confines of the netherworld because of his power, and envied the joys of humanity. Why else would she still cling to that misshapen shamisen like she did?

They'd only crossed paths once or twice during Xandred's reign on earth, when both of them were still too out of their wits to understand what it meant to fall to Nighlok. She kept her distance, strangely afraid of his closeness, he did the same, often driven away from anything Uramasa found repulsive.

Though there as nothing remotely beautiful about her form, he'd hardly call Dayu repulsive. (But then, what he did expect from a blunt object?)

As far as he knew she was no one important, but her body language - when she wasn't keeping it check - spoke to otherwise. Curious and curiouser, he thought to ask her if he knew her, but something always stopped him.

Maybe he didn't want to know, in which case it was probably a good thing he didn't ask her. She'd probably just lie to him again.


	41. Bottleneck

**Title:** Bottleneck

**Prompt:** "Triangle"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Serrator wasn't the kind of Nighlok that found pleasure in haunting his victims with his presence. Better yet, he liked to make indirect references to their contract with him and pretend as if he'd done nothing wrong by sticking the open wound with a hot poker.

In Dayu's case, he rarely visited Xandred's part of the netherworld, seemingly content with where he'd sent her. However, every eve of her wedding anniversary, he made it a point to torment her in a way that required no accusations of blame. On the shores of the netherworld, far from Xandred's ship, Dayu would often wake as human with no way to revert back to her Nighlok form.

Trapped in what felt like an invisible triangle of misery, Dayu would find herself at the mercy of nightmares she worked hard to suppress. Visions of her torture at the hands of a violate Xandred, the burning house and a immobile Deker staring her down with yellow eyes full of bloodlust fueled by Uramasa.

There was no point in begging, there was no point in lashing out. She was the puppet and Serrator was the master. She would remain so until her strings were cut.


	42. Blues Flus

**Title:** Blues Flus

**Prompt:** "Square"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Dalia wasn't speaking to him. After one particularly ill worded comment about her frosty behavior a week after his return, he'd been chased from the house and banished to the barn. And to be sure, he'd slept in worse conditions than a barn full of ticks and flies, but he'd never had the unfortunate luck of catching a cold in the process.

Yes, he was a coward for leaving like he had, especially after consummating their relatively new relationship prior to departing. He had it in his head that if he had told her he was going to leave, she would her feminine wiles and keep him from his duty. A mile out and away from the property he realized how stupid that sounded in retrospect, but there was no turning back. He a duty to the country to fulfill. She had every right to be bitter with him, but that didn't mean he couldn't be upset about it.

Despite the temptation to sneak into the house and steal an extra blanket to ward off the chills disrupting his sleep, he kept his distance from the house, opting to watch her whenever she exited or visited the barn. Oh, yes, she knew he was sick, but expected him to tough it out until she got over herself (or her anger, whichever came first).

He was a soldier, he could tough it out, right?

He roamed the woodlands to escape the stuffy environment of the barn, hoping the fresh air would clear his foggy head. It didn't help but it often gave him enough space to think without repercussions. The cold was a tricky cuss to shake; even with the warmth of a fire (outside the barn), the chills wouldn't leave him. The coughing and runny nose made for a unbearable experience, the coughing made his head feel like a square block of cement, the runny nose made it a chore to clean his handkerchief. Persistent lower back pain and nightmares reminded him of the risks he took everytime he stepped out the boundaries of protection offered by Mako's charms.

Sufficed to say, Deker felt worse than grounded paste. Curling himself into a ball underneath his blanket he wondered when it would be safe to ask to come back inside.


	43. Out on Bail

**Title:** Out on Bail

**Prompt:** "Circle"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"If you told me it was this bad, I would've let you back inside, you stubborn mule," Dalia grumbled as wrapped another blanket around him. Deker shrugged it off, scooting away from her in the process. "Put any more blankets on me and I'll roast," He coughed.

"Deker your just complained of being cold. Any less blankets you'll freeze to death or worse," Dalia protested reaching for the fallen blanket. When she approached with the blanket he shook his head. "Well, I'm hot now, no more blankets," He droned, leaning over. "Besides, you probably would've thought I was pretending." He attempted to hide from her by covering his head; Dalia reached over and pulled the blanket from his head, yanking at his hair in the process.

"Yeeouch!" Stopped up as he was, his yelp came out higher than he intended it to, Dalia had to reframe from laughing as she apologized. "I'm sorry, Deker, I didn't mean to-" She giggled at the indignant expression on his face. "Honest, I'm not a hair puller."

"Oh, go away. I'll have no more your bedside manner," He grouched, squeezing his eyes shut. Dalia fixed the collar of the blanket so that it was closer around his neck, feeling a little guilty that she ignored his malady for so long. Untangling the strands of hair from her fingers, she said, "If you'd only told me you were leaving, I wouldn't have gotten angry."

"Angry or no, what civilized person tosses a man out into the cold? It's vindictive, more than that, it's cruel. I could've died, I might die," Deker rebuked.

Dalia huffed, waving him off as she sat down cross-legged. "Now you're being dramatic, Deker," She said, fingers tracing circles on the floor next to her. "I would never let you die, not if I could help it. Suffer, yes, but death is quiet the extreme."

"What kind of a lover are you, if that is the case?" Muttered Deker.

"A human one. Vindictive, flawed, petty. I can be quite mean, but that is not all I am," She answered. "Just like you are not simply a soldier."

Deker said noting in response to that; his self-esteem wasn't high enough to agree with the sentiment. "Deker, I simply wanted the chance to say goodbye, to see you one last time. What if you'd died out there, or worse disappeared with Diend? What would I be left with besides a letter that implied I guilted you into staying here with me, keeping you from your duties?"

"I didn't mean it like that, Dalia."

"Oh, I know you didn't, but that's how it made me feel," She argued.

"What of the other night before I left?"

"Deker, you're a man. You could say one thing to a woman and mean something entirely different," Dalia deadpanned. At his wounded expression she added, "The other night was wonderful, amazing even. But I want us to be more than sex, I want your companionship, your trust."

"You have it," Deker interjected. "You've always have."

"Well, your letter didn't make me feel like I did. Our entire relationship could've ended as a falsehood if you hadn't come back to me. That's worse than catching a cold." Dalia pressed her hand his face, warm and clammy, she leaned forward and kissed top of his head. "I'm sorry I was so cruel, can you forgive me?"

"If you can forgive me for my cowardice?" He paused, making sure he was treading down the right path. Dalia nodded. "Then, yes-" Deker sneezed, startling the woman a good distance away from him. "I forgive you," He sniffled. Dayu smiled wearily, wiping her face clean of the spittle that hit her. "Then I am relieved."


	44. I've been left behind, so I ride

**Title:** I've been left behind, so I ride

**Prompt:** "Moon"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

They came in like a wave against stone. One moment there's silence, the next chaos rocked the camp like an earthquake that sent everything that wasn't nailed to the ground sailing overhead and into everyone unfortunate to be in the way. Moogers ran back and forth through the entrance and the exit of the tent, either from or toward their enemy. Deker had been tied to the post of the tent when it split apart and fell over.

Despite the raw and blistering wound on his lower back, he didn't question it, he didn't want an explanation. Pulling his arms over his head and away from the split pole Deker found it in him to rise to his feet and run through the heavy tarp that fell onto him; in the process escape he was knocked over and pummeled by outside forces that care nothing for his livelihood. One particular blow to the head knocked him senseless as he escaped from underneath the collapsed tent.

It was chaos, pure chaos. Prisoners and captors alike were running over each other as they tried to escape the warpath of the Samurai cutting them down to reach their enemies. "Hey, you!" He looked up to the right, startled out by the sound of the guttural voice. "Where do you think going, human?!" A hulking Nighlok marched toward him, incisors chomping with ferocity, clearly intending to kill him. Throwing himself forward Deker made a blind grab for a pistol lying on the ground, rolling away from the Nighlok's first attack, he extended his arm and fired.

The bullet hit the monster in the side but when he fell over there were three spears lodged in his back. Three Samurai were riding toward him, swords at the ready. Stumbling over his feet Deker ran in the direction most of the soldiers were aiming for and hoped for the best. The cold of the night seeped into his skin, under the moonlight he found his way into the thick of the forest where he could hear the echoes of screams, neighs and roars from all directions.

This is not at all what he had expected when he sighed up for the ship to Japan; the most he expected to be doing was training and helping the military against the non-descript enemy giving their country problems.

If these monsters were the enemy, he wanted nothing to do with it. So he kept running, tripping over roots, dodging trees and bodies alike. Deker kept running until there wasn't a forest run across. There he saw a man that literally seemed to come out of nowhere, grab him by the waist. The momentum of his body sent them both down a steep hill into the icy waters below. Deker had no way of knowing which way he fell, which way was up or down. His limbs barely responded to the command to move, for all intents and purposes he thought he was dead.

Until he felt the water being pushed from his lungs and his own hacking. Whoever had rescued him wasn't exactly concerned with treating him kindly, he winced when a slap hit him across the face, forcing his eyes open. The moon did little in aiding his vision, burning and blurry from the minerals in the water. The figure towering him extended his hand to him, speaking in a language he did not understand. Wearily Deker took the hand that helped him onto his feet. "Are you one of them? One of the Samurai?" He coughed, bending over.

The man nodded. "Samurai," He said.

"You gonna kill me?" Deker asked in between breaths. The man said nothing, he looked him up and down for a time then offered his hand again. The weary soldier looked down to find the pistol in his hand; grateful he took the wet weapon and shoved it into his pants. Thunder roared overhead, the Samurai proceeded to walk away, seemingly satisfied with himself.

"H-hey… hey, wait," Deker stumbled after him, not wanting to be left behind in a storm.


	45. I am lost but I don't doubt, so I ride

**Title:** I am lost but I don't doubt, so I ride

**Prompt:** "Star"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"I know you can't understand me, but is there any chance I could get something warm to wear?" Dalia stood in the middle of the woman's home, sopping wet from the rain storm and running through the river to escape the monsters that had attacked her carriage. Her mind was still hazy as to how it happened; one moment she and her escort are flirting with each other, the next some woman-thing is haggling them for their belongings, eventually overturning the carriage and snatching the star necklace from her neck.

The woman regarded her with a look of indifference and disappeared from what Dalia assumed was the living room. The house was so small she wondered if the woman had any belongings to give that weren't for her only. Rubbing her arms in an attempt to keep warm, Dalia leaned forward to look into the next room. The woman walked past the entrance once or twice, seemingly oblivious to the soggy white girl puddling in her house.

A moment later she returned with a blanket that she wrapped around her shoulders. The woman didn't speak when she lead her toward the fire, Dalia smiled pleasantly and mimicked a motion of thanks she saw one of the women in the city perform.

The woman patted her on the shoulder and moved out of the room again, a few seconds later she returned with a towel that used to mop up the water. Dalia watched her quietly, careful of her proximity around the fire. "Do you live here by yourself?" Dalia wasn't sure why she was speaking; the woman clearly didn't understand what she was saying.


	46. Bad Luck

**Title:** Bad Luck

**Prompt:** "Heart"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Deker was starting to see a pattern forming right before his eyes. If he wasn't strung out of his mind with a cold, he was recovering from accursed malady after being cursed or clawing his way out a battle.

Diend, before he disappeared, speculated the Deker was saddled with a lifetime of bad luck as result of the spell the Nighlok branded him with, a theory which didn't at all seem fair. He was starting to miss home, at least there things made a modicum of sense (somewhat) and if he got in trouble he didn't have to worry about a black cloud raining misery onto his head because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time

He was he good guy, what sense did it make to keep punishing him for being caught by the villains?

Everything seemed to end in waking up or sleeping in the tiny room in Mako's home, in the company of Dalia.

Which in and of itself seemed worth the misfortune when he thought about it. She took a wounded man, pulled him from his suspicions, and gave him her heart and a home. Her impression was so strong that he rarely thought of home unless in certain circumstances.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.


	47. Promises, Promises

**Title:** Promises, Promises

**Prompt:** "Diamond"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"Not brooding again, are you?" Dalia strolled from the house across toward Deker. He was standing next to the well, turning the handle around with both hands. His hair was pulled back into a sloppy pony tail to keep it out of his face, his suspenders hung on the sides of his pants and sleeves were rolled up. "No," Deker shook his head in response stopping the progression of the bucket in the process. "Just thinking," he said.

"About what, if you don't mind my asking?" Dalia inquired, leaning up against the other side of the well. Deker laughed and resumed turning the handle. There wasn't much he was adverse to Dalia asking him. Maybe if he were home he'd have more excuses not to be questioned, but in the wide open space of her home he felt he had nothing to hide.

"I'm thirty seven years old, about the same age my father was when he married my mother," He confessed. "In any other circumstances, I might've been persuaded to marry my neighbor, Felicity."

She laughed at the girl's name, fingers sliding across the wet stone rim. "But now?"

He grunted, reaching over he grabbed the bucket of water from over the well and placed it on the ground. The water sparkled like a thousand diamonds in the sunlight, casting a reflection on the base of the well. "Now," He said. "Now, it isn't like that. At least, I don't think it is."

"Did you have any other siblings?"

"Yes, two sisters and a brother," Deker replied. "So my parents aren't completely without a lineage to succeed them. What of you?"

"I'm an only child, unfortunately," Dalia replied. "My mother aspired to high society. I was afforded the fortune of the best tutors her money could buy and lessons on how to be a lady. I was promised to a young man from Virginia, his name was Thomas." She paused, suddenly interested in her fingernails. "I imagine my mother believes I'm lost to the uncivilized world, never to return."

"You always could go back," Deker said. "We've more than enough money to travel now."

Dalia gave him a pointed look. "Yes, but you see, I don't want to. I like it here just fine. My mother will make it without me, she's a survivor."

"Still, it doesn't do to make them worry. We could write letters."

"_You_ can write letters, maybe your parents won't come after you," Dalia sighed, pushing away from the well. Deker watched her spin a circle a few times before collapsing onto the ground. Deciding the water would be fine where it was he walked over to her. He lay on his side next to her and watched her expression. "Mother was never keen on my coming here, said noting good would come of it," She focused her gaze on him. "But that isn't true, not at all." Her fingers traced his jaw down to his collarbone. Deker leaned down and kissed her lightly on the edge of her mouth. "No, not isn't," He answered. "But your mother does have a right to know her only daughter is safe, doesn't she?"

Dalia huffed, knowing he was right. "Yes. If I write a letter and send it to her, will you be happy?"

"I'd be happier if you sent it because you wanted to, not because I "asked" you," Deker grinned.


	48. Hubris

**Title:** Hubris

**Prompt:** "Club"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"No, again," Diend knocked the stick away from the tree and circled around him like a predator. Deker tried his best to glare at his friend as he repositioned his grip on the faux-sword.

He raised his arms over his head again and prepared to strike the tree when he was jabbed in the side by the end of Diend's sword. "Too slow. Again," He said.

"I can't-" Diend raised a hand for silence. Deker's cheeks prickled with embarrassment, out of frustration he chucked the stick over his shoulder and turned to leave.

Quicker than he could anticipate he was jabbed in the back and knocked off his feet, Deker watched the world spin around his head before he came back-to-back with the ground. Diend appeared above him, his stick in hand. "A sword is not a club," He remarked, tapping the top of his head with the stick. "And you will not leave because you cannot follow orders."

"I wasn't leaving, I was- I wasn't!" Deker argued. "And I can follow orders quite well, thank you."

"Your poor skills say otherwise," Diend remarked. "Dalia is better with a stick than you are."

"Emasculate me, why don't you?" He muttered, which earned him another tap on the head.

"Quiet," Diend snapped. "We'll try again one more time, then break for lunch." Deker held his tongue this time and climbed to his feet. Stick in hand again and moved to his original position in front of the tree.


	49. Pathos

**Title:** Pathos

**Prompt:** "Spade"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Sticks and Stones"

* * *

The wretch had crept up on her without warning; his snickering registered a moment too late for her to react. "Selfish," The word barely registered in her mind as spoken, instinctively she rejected the definition. Her breath hitched at the pang of truth and guilt that blossomed in her chest.

The next thing she knew she was flying across the room and crashing against the wall. Octoroo informed her of the trouble the Nighlok could cause with his mouth, his brand of the "truth". She'd simply dismissed it as being only able to affect humans, but clearly she was wrong.

It was one thing for Negatron to insult her, but another to allow the transgression to pass. There were times when she wanted kick Xandred overboard for interfering; that Nighlok wasn't doing anything the other or the next would end up doing (dying), so what was point?

Rotten, useless demon.

It wasn't what she was truly upset about, not by a long shot. Being caught off guard bruised her pride, yes, but being humiliated and judged by a lowly creature not better than herself set her off.


	50. Aishu no Submariner (fixed)

**Title:** Aishu no Submariner

**Prompt:** "Water"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Deker was sure he was hallucinating when he saw a girl emerge from the water. It was just the thirst and the heat getting to him is all; she wasn't there when he was dosing his face and neck with water, therefore she must be an illusion of some sort. Dainty, pale bearing two large blue eyes, she looked like the part of a courtesan, but had all the mannerisms of a fish.

Or in this case a Mermaid.

Hand poised over the water, Deker watched intently as she slinked her way over him, playful and smiling. He wasn't sure if he should move, if he could move. The lady of the water was only a mere few inches away from him when a stray arrow hit the water just a hairsbreadth away from her. Deker jumped away from the edge of the watering hole.

The fish-girl shrank back into the water until only her head remained above water. Hair pooled around her head, she bore her fangs at Diend with a hiss and vanished into the deep like a flower closing in reverse. Deker looked up at the solemn Samurai in bewilderment; his head was swimming and his heart raced. "Wh-what was that?" He cried. Diend shook his head and said, "Nighlok." The word registered with Deker as the name of the enemy they'd been evading since the escape. Without so much as speaking a word, Diend continued onward, leaving Deker behind to catch up.

He was beginning to hate this place.


	51. Mina Soko ni Nemure

**Title:** Mina Soko ni Nemure

**Prompt:** "Fire"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** AU, Post-"Boxed In"

* * *

Nighlok are fickle monsters. They'd just soon go after their own kind as they would humans, it all depended on the opportunity and the moment. Of course that moment had to be in middle of a fight with the Rangers, herself and Deker. Between the six of them and just him, Dayu knew she'd bitten off more than she could chew, but she had a job to do and she'd honor the command given by Xandred.

Deker seemed less interested in her assassination attempt than Gold's pun-laden insults; he deflected her with a haste that indicated irritation rather than intimidation. He would knock Pink, Yellow and Blue into her path, keeping her just far enough that he could attack Red every few minutes. Dayu had reached her limit of being ignored by her target when the wayward Nighlok attacking the city appeared hit the lot of them with a beam of light she was sure would obliterate them all.

Instead she woke lounging on a leather office chair and appraising Deker as he a paced back and forth in a pinstripe suit. They were in what appeared to be an empty warehouse with one office table, chair and lamp that illuminated that one space. In place of his sword Uramasa was pistol fit for his ego, overhead she a rather forlorn saxophone playing a tune that fit the mood all too well.

Well, this was just perfect; a trickster who loved the movies. Some part of her knew where she was, the other wasn't so aware. Deker was oblivious, thinking to himself in a monotone narrative that could be heard in sync with the jazz playing overhead.

Even in a completely different reality he was single-minded, thinking nothing but the Red Ranger, or rather what his character, Deka, would do when he put Detective Jayden six feet under. "Red Ranger this, Red Ranger that", it was enough to make her sick and miserable at the same time. Rolling her eyes she took a moment to readjust her sequin dress and fur shawl.

Slinking behind him she placed her hands on his shoulders, telling him to relax, Octavia would be here would be there soon with the money and they'd be sipping sodas on some beach someplace nice, far away from Xander. He didn't answer of course, there wasn't anything for Deker/Deka to project other than what was being fed to him by the Nighlok. He had no emotional desire beyond fighting and being liberated from his curse, why would he care about leaving that behind?

Eventually, the Rangers' alter egos arrived at the warehouse, seemingly convinced and aware that they were all stuck in some dream world and it was their fault. The next instant they were no longer in a warehouse but a hospital. She was a crooked nurse, Deker was a catatonic patient, and the Rangers, still policemen, were out to stop her from setting fire to the hospital. Going through the motions she played her part, steering Deker about in a wheelchair as she escaped the clutches of justice and the burning building.

From there, their roles varied from a penniless guitar player, serial killer, a widowed mother; oblivious yuppie, embittered business woman, homeless man looking for his dog (Uramasa); Geisha, exiled Daimyo, 1950s housewife, obsessive-compulsive gambler. When or where it stopped she couldn't remember. When she woke from the Nighlok's nightmarish playground, she was alone in the field as the sun was setting. Frustrated by the gambit of emotional manipulation she was forced to experience, Dayu returned to the ship, prepared for Xandred's temper tantrum.


	52. Another Time, Another Place

**Title:** Another Time, Another Place

**Prompt:** "Earth"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Team Spirit"

* * *

There was a bit of irony in his situation.

There he stands giving advice to fledglings

on how to fall from grace and become one

of the damned; he had no real idea as to how

became damned himself. Uramasa tells him nothing,

his "Nighlok Half" cares nothing for the foibles of

his lost humanity; his "Human Half" is vacant of

any opinion of its own, acting merely as a shell of

convenience against the latter weaknesses of Nighloks.

He cared nothing for the humans who've lost their souls,

but figured if he could nudge a wholly uncooperative group

of samurai in his general direction, then perhaps he could

finally have the duel he was constantly denied by an idealistic

little boy.

How the earth would shake if such a power fell into enemy

hands and crossed blades with his own.

But it'll never happen.

They're far too idealistic, however desperate they may be

save their friend, to relinquish themselves to evil.


	53. Ruminations

**Title:** Ruminations

**Prompt:** "Air"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "Team Spirit"

* * *

Recent events as of late seemed to have confined her to that little place in the corner. The spring season was on its last leg, summer was bubbling and Xandred was growing restless as the river they were marooned in. The air was stifling, choking on the pent up energy of Xandred's strength. Shamisen in hand she did her best to quell Xandred's rages and his headaches when his "medicine" didn't do the trick.

Octoroo watched the progressive turbulence of the waters below with a glee she hadn't seen in 200 years, something big must've been on the horizon. They entertained the presence the soul-snatcher, she watched as the mouthy creature pranced around the ship blowing the horn of premature victory. It wasn't a terrible waste to see him snatched out of the nether and out of her sight, though she knew Xandred wouldn't be terribly happy about it.


	54. Fishy Delight

**Title:** Fishy Delight

**Prompt:** "Spirit"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** "[The] Tengen Gate"

* * *

He had a stalker.

How else would he know where to show up, which road he was traveling? There was no other conclusion.

The fisherman hopped from off the high mound of the slanted environment; out of the protection of the high grass. Instinctively he reached for his sword, but paused when he realized who it was. It was amusing, refreshing even, to see someone approach him and rattle off at the mouth about something as simple as "Baby Barracudas". Taken aback more by the fact that he indirectly promised him he'd try his fish, Deker allowed himself be lead around to the sushi cart.

"Oh! By the way, my name's Antonio, Antonio Garcia," Antonio, Deker deduced, was a little light in the areas of awareness. He mistook his hidden katana for a fishing reel undercover and flagrantly gave away his name to a stranger. Still, he did him the pleasure of shaking his hand and watching with barely concealed bewilderment as he opened his cart for business with dramatic flourish. He forced him into the lawn chair, it was all Deker could do to not knock him off his feet for handling him like a super-posable mannequin.

"Trust me, your gonna love this!" Antonio suqeed.

Deker observed the preparation of the fish with mild amusement. This entire ordeal was a distraction, but it was a distraction he didn't mind at all. The fish had been deemed ready to eat when Antonio received a call from his phone (a Samuraizer he noted); like a ninny he mentioned the Tengen Gate and hurried off with an apology.

The "Tengen Gate"; interesting name, interesting circumstances given their geographical location. He'd been to the Tengen Temple in Japan before, very ceremonious place and a little too calm for his likes at the time. The people were nice enough, but clearly didn't take kindly to his presence. As he started to leave he paused and reached for one of the baskets. Juggling the fish in his hand he clamped one between his teeth and took the other, ignoring the irritant heat from the steaming body.

Deker hadn't been in a particularly good mood that morning, having spent the night meditating next to a rather noisy group of individuals who didn't seem to understand the concept of quiet.

But Antonio, dare he say it, actually "lifted his spirits".


	55. Scramble

**Title:** Scramble

**Prompt:** "Breakfast"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Dalia woke to the smell of food; food that she wasn't cooking. Rolling over onto her side she found Deker's side of the mat cold and vacant. Convinced that they were being robbed by a some inept horse thief who decided to treat himself to warm food, she grabbed the boom across from her and proceeded out of the bedroom.

Moving quietly down the hall, she traveled through the living room into the kitchen. Instead of a horse thief she found Deker, pot in hand and look quiet intense as he attempted to fry eggs. Dalia lowered the boom in astonishment. "Deker, what are you doing?" She asked. Deker glanced up from the pan and smiled. "Making breakfast, scrambled eggs specifically."

"Yes, but why?" Dalia inquired again. "I didn't think you could cook."

"I have many skills," Deker grinned. "Chief among them cooking. Granted, it's not my place in the household, but still…"

Dalia folded her arms across her chest. "As long you don't ruin any of the utensils."

Deker shook his head, unfazed by her tone. "I'll try not to."


	56. Grievous Emissions

**Title:** Grievous Emissions

**Prompt:** "Lunch"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"I see another plate of beans it'll be too soon."

"Quite your griping Deke, at least there's food to eat."

Deker adjusted the hat on his head as he chewed, resentfully, the spoonful of beans he recently scooped up. He followed Captain Beasley's every move until he sat down in front of the fire, rubbing his hands together to chase off the cold. "That's easy for you say, Captain," He grouched. "You get to eat nice food with the officers, the rest of us don't exactly have what you'd call a wide variety to choose from."

"Hey, what's wrong with my beans?" Corporal Higgins protested.

"Nothing, if you can stand the smell somebody farting all the time," Deker grumbled, waving a hand in front of his face. "I'm tired for farting."

"Then you'll probably hate all that rich food the officers are eating," Robby laughed. "None of them officers smell like daisies if you get my meaning."

"Coording to my ma, farting does good fer yah," Dennis spoke up from behind. "Gets the toxins outta ya right quick."

"Gentlemen, can we please find another topic of discussion?" Beasley asked. "Bodily emissions is hardly good talk for lunch."

"We can talk about cows, haven't talked about them yet," Robby suggested innocently.

"Nah, I'd rather talk about dem dress wearin' gentlemen," Dennis argued. "Pompous bastards."

"The Samurai, Dennis?" Deker corrected.

"Yeah, yeah… _Samurai_," Dennis grumbled under his breath.

"I killed one of those tomato-faced monsters today," Higgins piped up, changing the subject altogether. "Moogles I think they called 'em."

"Ha-ha! I got four!" Dennis whooped.

"Eight," Beasley countered.

"Three," Robby announced. "Deker?"

"Ten," He said, resulting in a chorus of jeers from his comrades.


	57. Problematic

**Title:** Problematic

**Prompt:** "Dinner"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"Hold still, I think its stuck," Dalia grunted.

"You think? I know its stuck, I can feel it, Dalia. It's stuck," Deker argued from behind his shirt. Dalia tried her best not to laugh at the wild gestures his hands were making as she tried to free the buttons from his hair. In the process of trying to pull his shirt over his head, Deker's hair had intervened in what was, up until now, a relatively exhilarating moment for Dalia. "I'm sorry, I guess I shouldn't have been so impatient," She chuckled.

"Don't laugh, Dalia," Deker rebuked. "This hurts." Gripping the bottom of his shirt she pulled it back down as far as she could without causing further discomfort. Arms free to move from their raised position, Deker's fingers were quick to busy themselves with freeing his hair from the buttons of his shirt. In the meantime Dalia played with the parts that weren't stuck on his clothes, appreciating the smooth texture of his long locks. "You really should have this cut," Dalia mused.

"I like my hair as it is," Deker sighed with relief when his hair fell away from his shirt, free of the buttons. He rolled his neck and smiled at her. "And so do you apparently."

"So it would seem," She agreed, pushing him down onto the floor. Deker caught himself with his hands, preventing a rather unpleasant collision with the ground. "Dinner is sure to burn if we do this right now, Dalia," He said. "You aren't exactly pleasant when you burn pots."

"Just five minutes, it's all I ask," Dalia grinned, wiggling her fingers. "Then we can eat."


	58. Strings

**Title:** Strings

**Prompt:** "Food"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

They say reason was food for the soul, but there was no reason in his behavior. He'd simply come to see what kind of instruments he had for sale, he never really intended to buy one, temping as it was.

Yet the old man was insistent, shuffled behind his stand and clasped his hand imploringly. "Oh, please sir, it would bring me great joy if you bought just one, " He begged. "My family's livelihood depends on it."

A pang of sympathy blossomed in his chest, Deker did his best to resist it. There was a line between a beggar and a crook, you never could tell who was who unless you had the misfortune (or fortune) of crossing paths again to discover they were either telling the truth or lying to you. He looked to the old man then regarded the guitars lined up on the table. They were all beautifully made, no doubt about it, but what he would or Dalia do with it?

He couldn't play a stringed instrument, but could she? He'd heard her humming more often than not, but that didn't exactly implicate or suggest she had any musical inclination with a instrument. Still, there was some leftover money in the pouch from the re-supply, perhaps a little splurge for her wouldn't hurt.


	59. Shadow Me

**Title:** Shadow Me

**Prompt:** "Drink"

**Season:** Spring

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

"You seem intent on following me."

"It's a free netherworld, I can go where I please," Dayu countered, strolling past him with a lazy sway. Deker shook his head in exasperation, irritated with how many times she's countered his not so astute commentary on the fact that they happened to be traveling in the same direction.

Dayu spun around on one heel and inclined her head in his direction. "What brings you down to these parts if you don't mind my asking, Deker? From what I hear, you aren't terribly keen on our homeworld."

"Nothing that you need concern yourself with," He answered. "Xandred has nothing to fear from me."

"Who says Master Xandred's asking? What if I was curious?" Said Dayu.

Deker shrugged, not caring one way or the other. She who was in the company of the demon warlord was untrustworthy at best, and scheming at worse. He never trusted her motivations to be her own when he crossed paths with her. "Shouldn't you be conquering the earth right now?"

"Shouldn't you be mooning over your sword right now?" Dayu countered mockingly. "I have a will of my own."

"You don't act like it," Deker turned away from her. Look who's talking, she thought. Dayu followed after him as he approached the edge of the cliff. It'd barely been a year since she made the deal with Serrator and she was losing track of him more and more everyday.

He moved further and further away from the area of their home and closer to cities where Xandred's concentration of armies were wreaking havoc on the souls of humans. Did he want to participate? Had he participated? In the confinement of Xandred's ship she could never be sure, maybe she didn't want to be.

"Where are you going now?" Dayu asked, hoping she didn't sound as silly as she thought.

"Someplace far away from you, hopefully," Deker replied. "I can't hear Uramasa speak over your chatter." He cast a look over his shoulder. "He's strangely muted in your presence." Dayu watched with reservation as he leapt from the edge and down into the depths of the drink below.

Perhaps Serrator's hold was not as strong as he would have them believe.

* * *

**[SPIRNG'S END]**

_Only forty more to go before the challenge is complete._


	60. Cold Bones

**Title:** Cold Bones

**Prompt:** "Winter"

**Season:** Summer

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Deker was lacking the enthusiasm that Dalia was presently experiencing for the cold weather. It was a wretched season, winter. He deduced it's entire duration was God's method of natural selection, survival of the fittest. Those who survived the bitter cold and snow were granted the chance of seeing the next cycle of spring, summer and fall and so forth. Those that didn't were weak and therefore unfit to live.

He always feared he was among the unworthy, especially now so far from home. Dalia thought he was being silly, that there was nothing to fear from the cold so long as you were prepared. "Don't worry so much," She told him as the snow began to fall. Alas, worrying was easier than not worrying at all. Deker wondered how and where Diend would be at that very moment as snow blanked the ground.

In the arms of the enemy or someplace warm and cozy? If he was alive, why didn't he just come back to the farm?


	61. Worrisome Thing

**Title:** Worrisome Thing

**Prompt:** "Spring"

**Season:** Summer

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Dalia felt her body spring into upright position on the bed, uncertain of woke her from her slumber. Deker's arms were still around her waist, his face buried in the pillow, with a groan he raised his head and blinked the sleep from his eyes. "What's the matter?" Yawned Deker. Dalia stared into the dark, searching for whatever woke her up.

After a while she laid back down, convinced that she must've been dreaming. Positioning herself on her belly she reached out into the dark to find Deker, her fingers touched the bridge of his nose. His hand caught hers before it slipped away, his thumb circled the center of her palm. "Bad dream?"

"Or something," She murmured. "I thought I smelled something burning, but it was just my imagination." Deker chewed the tip of her middle finger, fighting back a smile. Dalia rolled onto her back so that she was up against his side, one arm draped across his back. "It was so vivid though. I smelled wood burning, I was scared, I just couldn't see anything."

"Hmm."

"Should I check the candles? Maybe I should check them."

"No, don't. I'm sure you put them out, I know you did."

"How?"

"I just do."

"You just don't want me leaving the bed."

"Well, no, of course not. You are… so warm… and comfortable. I might get cold." Dalia let out a genuine laugh, Deker raised his head from the pillow again. He kissed her on the cheek. Dalia pulled the cover up higher and snuggled against him. Even as she slept the smell of burning wood never left her mind.


	62. What's out there? What's waiting for me

**Title:** "What's out there? What's waiting for me?"

**Prompt:** "Summer"

**Season:** Summer

**Timeline:** "Boxed In"

* * *

There was discrepancy in what he told the Red Ranger. A fractured man, he never knew what to think of himself as beyond a warrior. The instinct, the skill, it was all in him. He might not remember how exactly, but his body never forgot. Everything that made a person a person - their likes, dislikes, goals, desires, moral code, _memories_ - he was empty, a vacant lot.

He'd met few people who claimed to know him, most of them were old when they crossed paths and thus he deemed them feeble of the mind. Everything the Red Ranger seemed to have, "warped" and "twisted" as the liar was, part of him wanted to be jealous but he could never find the will to feel such an emotion.

His "Nighlok Half", the part of him that wasn't human, it seemed all the personality he had, desired nothing but the blood of his enemies. He didn't necessarily loathe it, if anything he embraced it. Yet there was a part of him (that empty human man) that hated that he liked fighting so much; prickled at being regarded as a warmonger. The demon in him actually combated the flicker of self-loathing, that desire to be free of his curse. _Embrace it, follow it,_ and spurred by Uramasa, he did more often than not.

What else was there for him? In the summer of his discontent he waited for the one who could match him to acknowledge the importance behind his "senseless" need for fighting, his inability to resist the monster within him.

Maybe then he could be free.

Was that not a human desire?


	63. But if you must falter, be wise

**Title:** "But if you must falter, be wise."

**Prompt:** "Fall"

**Season:** Summer

**Timeline:** "Boxed In"

* * *

Of all the monsters at his disposal, he chooses her for an assassination mission. The why eluded her; did he expect her to say "no"? It wasn't as if she could, in conscience, say no the demon. Not if she valued what life she had as a monster. Did he expect Deker to be caught off guard if he sent her after him? It was an unlikely outcome, a one time save from the Rangers and a few encounters did not ensure that Deker would halt his sword if she raised her own against him.

He was not a merciful man in most circumstances, if at all. Dayu did her best not to falter despite Octoroo's attempt to get her out of the situation. Stalking out of the ship she leapt into the water and headed for the human world as fast as she could.

Finding Deker wasn't a hard task; the Red Ranger was poisoned, the obvious place he was going to was the hot spring. It was a ways off from the "Tengen Gate" but she didn't doubt the Rangers would be able to find it easily and give her problems.

Only they didn't.

And when they didn't arrive she sulked in the background of the cave nearest to their location, listening to their conversation. Strung out on the side affects of the poisons, the Red Ranger was in no shape to fight, but from his agitated body language, Deker lacked the compassion (or sense) to care. Dayu found herself unable to carry out the order given to, she knew she wouldn't be able to, even with Deker being fully aware of her presence.

A mere incline of his head when he turned to face the wall she hid behind was all the acknowledgement she received, he didn't draw his sword against her or call her out. He just left when his plans were spoiled by the flamboyant Gold Ranger and continued to plot his "Ultimate Duel". In the silence of her consequences, Dayu could only imagine what Xandred would do her when she returned to the ship.


	64. A Name

**Title:** A Name

**Prompt:** "Passing"

**Season:** Summer

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

Before the defeat the Xandred, before he departed for the other world, he had seen her once before. On the year of their wedding anniversary, he wandered the shores of the Netherworld with out direction or purpose; why he had come eluded him, Uramasa thrummed restlessly in its sheathe, lusting for blood; Deker did his best to ignore the weapon's pull as he continued toward the prone body in between the threshold of land and river.

At first he believed her to merely be human, some poor soul who'd been dragged down into the realm by the tricksters. After all, there was rarely a time a human didn't end up in the Netherworld lest it pertained to a deal of some sort; often concerning wealth, love or beauty. He would never truly know who she was, but one look upon her form and something stirred beneath the layers of bloodlust and desire for battle.

He never acknowledged it as familiarity, there was little he was familiar with in either the human or the Netherworld; who could she be to him? No one. A passing twinge of irritation hit him. All around him the inane babble of the river monsters began to gurgle up from beneath the red waters, he saw the woman twitch and her eyes open. She looked directly at him, no sympathy in her expression. "Deker," He blinked, unable to hide the sense of recognition that played on his face. Her chest heaved with a shuddering breath, eyes pooling with tears.

"You know me?" He inquired, curiosity piqued.

She didn't answer, and no matter how long he waited she wouldn't speak. Frustrated he turned away and proceeded down path he trotted before. 'Deker', the name stuck to the walls of his mind as "right"; who was he to say what suited him, a walking blank slate, but it was something he couldn't let go of. So he adopted it, took it as his own.


	65. Ambushed

**Title:** Ambushed

**Prompt:** "Rain"

**Season:** Summer

**Timeline:** Pre-Series

* * *

The moment it was upon them, summer provided little escape from the heat; Dalia, more often than not, found herself bathing in the river just to cool off. The heat made her skin blister with irritation, the sun made her skin dry and red if she stayed outside too long. Deker seemed relatively unaffected by the heat wave; of course, he was uncomfortable, yet he felt it redundant to go on about the obvious.

It was months such as this that the river seemed like the only place to be, though one had to be careful when choosing the time of day to visit. It would seem those within relative distance had the same idea and more often than not, there was someone (children, mostly) skinny dipping in the river.

Never one to be defeated, Dalia filled their tub with water and soaked in it until the water was too warm for comfort. Convincing Deker to do the same, however, proved a harder than shooing cats from the barn. They slept apart from each other, the sweltering heat made them snappy, the tiniest thing could set them off and put them in a fouler mood. Dalia spent what felt like days apart from him, isolated in every other corner of the room where she felt a breeze. When she emerged from her hiding places, Deker was rarely around, and it made her wonder where he could've disappeared to for so long a time.

Then the rain came and they were drawn to each other once again, the heat an irrelevant thing of the past, washed away by the water and thunder storms.


End file.
